When in Doubt, Blame the Eldar (PA SI multicross)

by God the best one

Another one of these as yet another writer decides to jump on Drich's bandwagon. Not sure how... This story is not mine it was made by Blackhole1 on space battles.

2. 11-20

Threadmarks 11. Channeling HAL9000

With Taldeer's warnings in mind, I started preparing for space combat. Unfortunately, that's easier said than done. Space ships around here are huge. Even the humble Cobra destroyer is 800 meters long, and that is to say nothing of the multi-kilometer cruisers and battleships. As for me: I had a whole bunch of space fighters, and a ground-to-space artillery gun that really wasn't designed to deal with the really big things, and a bunch of floating rocks. My options were…somewhat limited.

Fighter swarm? Not enough Dakka.

Umbrellas? Same thing: not enough Dakka.

That left me with rocks.

Oh, well, if the Orks think it's good enough…

--

My first warning came when my sensors started going haywire. Apparently, there was a giant hole in the universe and I should really go do something about it. I sighed. It was just a small warp rift signifying the realspace translation of a oh god that's a battle barge.

Another battle barge.

Fuck me. And fuck you, Taldeer. Somehow this is all your fault. Anyway, back to work. The battlebarge was painted in the same colors as the Litany of Fury, and was called the 'Scientia Est Potentia'.

Knowledge is power. Classy.

Also, Blood Ravens had more than one battle barge, which I hadn't known. That…that was bad news, because I didn't know how many more were coming my way. More immediately, the appearance of a second battle barge meant at least one company worth of reinforcements for the Space Marines as well as a giant freaking warship that I couldn't shut down remotely. Also, I wouldn't have the element of surprise this time and if the Space Marines moved quickly…

Halley thrusters. I needed Halley thrusters on all the asteroids I'd claimed. If push comes to shove, I'd have all the ammunition I needed.

Or so I hoped.

A transport undocked from the Scientia Est Potentia and flew ahead of the fleet over to the Litany of Fury, landing in one of the fighter bays. Thule and his top officers moved in to greet the newcomer. The door opened and…Kyras.

Motherfucking Kyras was here.

Whelp, time to warm up the Halleys. This was all going to end in tears.

"The Litany of Fury…" Kyras spoke, with a voice that seemed to aim for 'fatherly' but ended up sounding so ridiculously evil that it made me wonder why anyone trusted the guy. "It has been a long time."

Thule was having none of it, though. "Chapter master, we…"

"You have no desire for pleasantries, I know. Considering the situation, I cannot say I blame you. The situation has…spiraled out of control, though to no fault of your own. Nevertheless, this unpleasantness needs to be dealt with quickly and thoroughly."

"Kyras, we need to talk!"

The chapter master frowned. "I suppose we do." The two men headed to a quiet corridor, away from the legions of menials that staffed the ship and other prying eyes. Well, except for a lone Ulysses that happened to be nearby. Lucky me. "What you found…"

"Yes. What in the Emperor's name is going on, Lord? Those artifacts…the Thousand Sons?!"

Kyras raised his hand like a parent calming a brooding son. "They are not conclusive evidence that we are related to a heretical legion, even if the evidence…points in that direction. Even if it was…we are not our forbearers, for better or for worse."

"I doubt the rest of the Imperium will be so understanding."

"They won't, which is why I wanted to keep this matter under wraps. The fewer people that know about it, the less chance we have of a leak. Our chapter cannot afford to let false suspicious taint our reputation."

"That will be very difficult now."

"Yes, which is one of the reasons why I'm here." There was something off about Kyras's tone. Something that sent shivers down my spine. "This world has fallen from the Emperor's light. Aliens, heretics, traitors, and now…the Silica Animus. It is beyond salvation."

Thule caught on and I could see the color drain from his face. "My lord, you can't seriously be considering an Exterminatus?! You don't even have the authority."

"In theory, I don't. However, in this case I believe it is better to beg for forgiveness than to ask permission. Calling the Inquisition and getting the proper approval will take days if not weeks. Considering how quickly the Man of Iron has grown in strength and adapted to our technology, do you truly believe we can afford to wait that long? As…difficult as this decision is, we must act now, before the machine has time to spread.

"I am truly sorry, Davian, but it must be done. Order the men to ready the bombardment cannons and prime the cyclonic torpedoes for launch immediately. My ship will join you when it arrives. When our dark work is done, we will scour the system of any trace of the machine."

What?

WHAT?!

They…but…why…FUCK!

They were going to blow up an entire planet because I was on it? No. Hell no. Hell the fuck no. Not on my watch. This called for immediate action. I checked my infiltration bots, both on the ship and on the marines themselves. Most of the Power Armor had been cleaned already, but the bots on the ship had gone unnoticed. I had access to many of the centralized systems, but not everything. The Litany of Fury's intra-ship communications, targeting, and general life support were firmly in my hands, but I didn't have access to the reactor or the engines. I could probably mess with the guns enough to keep the Space Marines from firing on other ships, but I couldn't destroy the battle barge from here. Still, if I could silence the guns...

…I still couldn't keep the gunners from just eye-balling it if they were really desperate. Not to mention that I wouldn't be able to stop the Scientia Est Potentia from doing what the Litany of Fury could not, even if I succeeded.

Kyras must have planned for this. He must have realized the Litany of Fury could have been compromised and brought his own ship as back-up. Dammit, new plan.

Rocks. I had functioning Halleys stuck on asteroids, waiting to be launched. Except that wouldn't work either, at least not in time. The Kronus system was huge. It'd take several hours for my asteroids to arrive and by then…

By then the planet would be rubble and every living soul on it would be dead.

I mean, it wouldn't hurt me all that much. With my fondness for teleporters, I could evacuate all of my mobile assets in minutes and simply rebuild everything in a day or two. Considering the sheer size of the Kronus system, the amount of random floating rocks I could colonize, and the relatively slow speed of the Imperial ships, I'd have plenty of time to rebuild and spam the fuck out of the Blood Ravens.

Expect the planet would still be destroyed along with all the people living there.

I fired the Halley engines. They wouldn't arrive fast enough, but…I had to do something.

"In the meantime, I would like to see those artifacts you've uncovered while you cleanse the planet." Before Kyras walked off, he turned around and said: "Do not fret over the fate of this planet. You have done everything you could to save it."

"I understand, my lord. I will do what I must." Goddammit Thule! "But what of the Imperial Guard? It will take at least a day for them to retreat to their ships."

"And the moment they start their retreat, the Man of Iron will know why. I know you respect General Alexander, but we cannot afford to wait for him. The loss of a regiment of Cadians, while tragic, is insignificant compared to the horrors the machine could unleash."

Thule didn't reply. He simply nodded and headed to the bridge.

General Alexander. I had to warn him. Maybe he could talk them down or…or… I opened the channel I'd used earlier to send them intel on Chaos and patched myself through to the General himself. "Lucas Alexander."

"Who is this?!" He snapped back. Wait, I've never spoken to him directly, have I? Guess that explains it. "How did you get this channel?"

"I'm your friendly neighborhood kill-bot that's been feeding you intel and there's no time to explain. The Space Marines are off their rockers and are going to blow up the planet…with you guys on it."

"That's insane, you…" The general got a new call, this time from the Imperial Navy. "Admiral de Ruyter…"

"General, a new Space Marine fleet just appeared on our sensors and it is heading to Kronus at full speed. In addition, the Litany of Fury is adjusting its orbit and appears to be charging their heavy bombardment weapons." The admiral sounded concerned. "It appears the Blood Ravens have run out of patience. I suggest that you ready your men for evacuation. We are officially out of time."

I hacked a nearby camera and saw General Alexander paling. I think he was finally starting to believe me. Then, another channel opened. This time from Captain Thule. "General Alexander…"

"You are going to destroy the planet…" Alexander said, dumbfounded.

"Yes, we are. By orders of our chapter master, we deem this world irrevocably tainted and are initiating an Ordo Exterminatus on the planet Kronus. I…I am sorry."

At that moment, I just lost it. How dare he sound so apologetic? "Oh, for fuck's sake, use that goddamn brain of yours, you sanctimonious, self-pitying piece of shit. For once in your useless life, take a long, hard look at what you're doing. This. Is. Wrong."

Thule slowed for a moment, but he didn't seem terribly surprised that I was on the line too. "You are the reason this is necessary, Commander."

"That's horseshit and you know it. You just don't want everyone to find out about all the tainted artifacts you've been digging up." There was a gasp on the other side of the line. I wasn't sure if it came from Alexander or De Ruyter. "Kyras is a traitor and now you're covering for him. Besides, you know that blowing up the planet won't do a thing to stop me. I have bases all over the place and am ferrying troops around the system via teleporters. You could kill every planet in the solar system and that still wouldn't stop me."

"But it would slow you down."

"And rob me of any reason to not go SHODAN on your genetically over-engineered ass." I laughed mirthlessly. "Funny thing is: you people are all so scared I'm going to wipe out humanity. Why should I even bother? If I wanted you dead, I just have to sit back and watch you do my job for me. I mean, who needs Chaos and aliens and evil robots when the human race is its own worst enemy?"

For a moment, everyone fell silent. Then Thule left the conversation and General Alexander spoke up. "Admiral, I need a solution. Can you stop the Space Marines?"

"I have three Dauntless light cruisers, a Dictator, and four Escorts. Our ships are faster than theirs, but…" The admiral sighed, lowering his head. "The Litany of Fury alone has enough firepower to overpower us even without its attendant fleet. With the second battle barge in play… I'm sorry, Lucas. I might be able to do a hot pick-up of your veterans and command staff, if the Blood Ravens let my fleet close enough, and I can get to Kronus before they rip us apart…"

"I have fighters and some ground-to-space weapons." I offered. "Not many, but it might be enough to…"

The admiral looked up in surprise and frowned. "Have you ever fought in Void-combat, machine?" The admiral asked. "I suspected not. A battle barge will have plenty of interceptors of its own, multi-layered Void shields, and enough point-defense turrets to rip apart destroyers without even bothering with the main guns. With what I've seen from your technological capabilities…"

"I have control over many of the Litany of Fury's systems. I can turn off life support, scramble the guns…even board them…"

There was a brief silence on the other end. "Do you have that for the other ships too?"

"I…no."

"Their escorts?"

"I have rocks." Silence followed. Right, I needed to elaborate. "I have asteroids that I can use to ram the enemy ships. Calculating a trajectory in space is easy, I just need you to buy some time."

De Ruyter paced around his bridge, rubbing his chin. "If it was just the Litany alone, that would have been enough. With the other ship in play, I fear that our chances are slim. Space Marine ships may be designed for transportation and invasion rather than void combat, but that doesn't mean they're easy prey. Even if you disabled the Litany of Fury and soften up the opposition with an asteroid barrage, it will be a pitched battle, especially with so few ships of our own. Defeating a ship that size…we will have to board them and I am not looking forward to boarding a ship full of Space Marines."

"And I don't have nearly enough bots to take out two battle barges alone." I added.

"I don't think we have another choice." General Alexander interjected, before I could make my own rebuttal. "If we can't defeat the Space Marines in space… Commander, you said you had teleportation devices, correct? Can they be used to transport people?"

"I…I don't know. They work just fine for robots, but I've never used them for organics. Even if it works, I have nowhere to evacuate your people to. Kronus is the only habitable planet in the system and I don't have time to set up shelters for millions of people."

"I wasn't talking about evacuation." Alexander said. "Admiral?"

Without a second thought, the admiral replied: "My fleet can distract the enemy and probably punch through the Void shields, but not if the Litany of Fury is still active. Even then, we won't last long. You'll only have a moment to board the Scientia Est Potentia, and then you're on your own."

"It'll have to do." I sighed, catching on to the general's plan. "I'll deal with the Litany of Fury. If nothing else, we'll buy you some time."

"And I will set course for Kronus." De Ruyter said. "General, get your troops ready for battle. If we fail…"

"We won't." The general replied. "We can't. May the Emperor be with us all."

"My engineers are going to fly in soon." I let them all know. "Please don't shoot them."

The admiral leaned back in his chair. "That we must side with this machine to save our world from our own allies… What is the Imperium coming to?"

With the evacuation settled, I turned my attention to the Litany of Fury. By now, it had already started broadcasting its intentions across the planet's surface, informing the populace of what was about to happen. Or tried to, anyway. I had seized control of the ships communications systems and blocked the broadcast without them realizing it. I didn't need to panic the population. Either we'd win and there'd be no Exterminatus, or we wouldn't and telling them wouldn't make much of a difference.

I switched my cameras to the bridge as a grim-faced Captain Thule prepared to unleash the apocalypse. Part of me wanted to feel bad for him, but another was simply too infuriated to care. 'I was only following orders' hasn't been a valid excuse since the Nuremburg Trials and I wasn't going to give him a pass just because I knew his video-game equivalent. Thule lowered his head over the holographic table when one of the officers said: "Captain, new contacts on auspex. Eight ships, all frigate class. Unknown designs."

Thule nodded. "Probably the Man of Iron. I suppose it was only a matter of time before he tried something."

"Only eight frigates?" Anteas wondered. "Against a battle barge?"

"Desperation?"

"Or the ships are stronger than they look. Imagine how much space and technology one could fit in the Litany of Fury if we had no need for a crew…"

Ah, clever Anteas. If only he knew the truth…namely that the ships weren't even real.

"At any rate, it is irrelevant." The captain decided. "All hands to battlestations. Navigation, maintain your course. Gunnery, target the approaching vessels. You may fire when in range."

The 'frigates' he was seeing were fake images of Star Destroyers from Star Wars. Faulty information that I had been feeding them. When they performed their auspex scans, they were only seeing what I wanted them to see. When they got their target locks, they were aiming at targets of my choosing. When they fired…

They were unwittingly firing at their own ships.

Pandemonium followed. The enormous macro-cannons of the battle barge opened fire, hurling death and destruction at its unsuspecting escorts. With the ships moving in formation and most only having their void-shields at low power, they were sitting ducks. Immediately, panicked starship captains started sending messages, some demanding explanations while others begged the Litany of Fury to stop. Messages that fell on deaf ears, as I had no intention of letting Thule hear them.

Soon, ships started taking damage. Some of the smarter captains immediately broke formation and red-lined their engines. Others were less fortunate and had their ships torn apart. A few braver ones made a run on the Litany of Fury itself, but with little result. The mighty battle barge ripped through the attackers and shrugged off attacks like it was nothing. By my will, thousands died at the hands of their own allies.

I was going to be sick.

Steeling myself, I sent a fleet of fighters and orbital fabricators towards the Litany of Fury. With most of the attendant fleet scattered and the ship's sensor systems under my control, my craft made the journey largely unmolested. With a thought, I ordered my ships to pass through the Void Shields and open fire.

With surgical precision, the fighters carved holes in the more vulnerable sections of the ship, exposing entire bulkheads to the vacuum of space and driving the crew deeper into the vessel. With intra-ship communications a mess, I'd probably have a while before the Space Marines realized what was going on. Long enough for me to set up teleporters inside the ship.

My build times might be crap, but that problem can be mitigated with enough resources and an army of fabricators. Soon, the teleporters sprang to life and an army of bots poured onto the ship.

The ploy lasted until Anteas started rubbing his forehead. He shot up, eyes wide. "Captain, cease fire! We're shooting our own men!"

"What?!"

"The ship has been compromised. We're firing on our own vessels!"

"How…Cease fire!" He shouted to the crew. Quietly, I blocked all communication leaving the bridge. The ship still rumbled with every shot. "Cease fire, damn you! In the Emperor's name, I…"

"Communications have been cut off." A techpriest noted blankly.

In less than a second, Thule's face went from confusion, to shock, to anger. Realizing what was going on, he turned to one of the cameras and shouted: "I know you're in our systems. Leave us be and let us do our duty."

"I'm sorry, Dave." I said, taking control of the bridge's speakers. "I'm afraid I can't do that."

I had expected Thule to fly into a rage, but he didn't. He didn't even glare at me in that passive-aggressive 'I'm going to beat you to death with your own skull' kind of way. Instead, he just looked sad. Resigned, almost.

"I am out of patience, Captain Thule."

"So you start killing my men."

Part of me felt guilty at that. Considering the size of the crews on these vessels, thousands had died already. Thousands more would before the day was done. "Yes. Believe me, I wouldn't have done this if I had any other option, but Kyras forced my hand. You forced my hand."

"'Excuses are the last refuge of the weak.'"

"That applies more to you than to me." To be honest, I wasn't sure which one of us he was talking about. "I'm not the one trying to kill over a billion people over trinkets."

"Orders are orders."

"Right, how could I forget? Kyras says jump, you ask how high like a good little robot. Speaking of Kyras, where is he anyway? Right, the ship's librarium. Where he's studying tainted artifacts instead of being here, on the bridge, supporting you while you perform one of the most difficult tasks in your career. What does that say about him?" I let the question hang for a while. When no answer came, I continued. "I'm taking your ship."

"What?!" He blurted in surprise.

"You heard me. You can't blow up a planet without a ship, so I'm taking yours. You've been a problem from day one, attacking your own allies and leaving me to do all the actual work. And now, you've stooped to blowing up the planet under the flimsiest of pretenses. I'm done. You're welcome to retreat to the planet's surface, but I'm still taking your ship. The people down there…I'm going to save them. From you, if I have to."

"We will fight you." He said, mustering some defiance. "We freed our armor from your grasp and we will…"

"You assume I give a damn or that I need to lock your armor to defeat you."

"We will fight to the last man to protect our ship."

"If you want to die, so be it. I'm not planning on being nice anymore. I tried that, and look where it got me: I just gave you maniacs time to pull off one last fuck-you. So, no more Mr. Nice Guy. No more hug-bots, no more preachy nonsense. You're leaving this ship in a drop pod or a body bag. Your call. I can't bring myself to care about you anymore."

Thule didn't answer. Not verbally, anyway. He pulled his bolt-pistol from its holster and shot out the cameras.

Guess the gauntlet has been thrown.

--

I'm not a hero.

I can't save everyone.

Ñ

Even for me, it's difficult to grasp just how humongously huge a battle barge is. Basically, the ship's interior is a theatre of war onto itself. It has cities, strongholds and even its own ghettos. Not to mention that it has enough Dakka to embarrass even the shootiest of Orks and that its hull is basically made of nintendium.

You know, strongest material in the universe?

Anyway, in spite of the ship's size, the interior was surprisingly cramped, which didn't work in my favor. My normal strategy of burying to opposition in lead and laser fire would have to be amended.

--

While my troops were flooding onto the ship via teleporter, I scouted ahead. While I was able to stop the ship-wide alerts, word of mouth had already spread. Squads of the ship's armsmen, carrying some kind of shotguns, started gathering near my entry points, waiting for me to come to them.

I frowned. No Space Marines yet, but that was only a matter of time. A pity, because that probably meant that by the time I'd reach them, I would have lost the element of surprise. Oh, well, I'd adapt like I always did.

Suddenly, the doors leading to my entry points opened. Entry points that were exposed to the vacuum of space. In less than a second, all the air in the corridors was sucked out. While the soldiers had suits, the sudden rush of air threw them off their mark. My bots didn't have that problem.

Fire was exchanged and while the shotguns did plenty of damage to my bots, I had the initiative and the numbers advantage. Moreover, the vacuum didn't bother me at all, whereas for them even a glancing shot would be fatal. Slowly I overran the enemy and broke through their lines. As I did, I started pressurizing the areas behind me and set up teleporters inside the ship itself. Not for my troops, but for the Litany of Fury's crew. Most of them weren't really combatants and some of them even had children, so I decided to let them leave the vessel peacefully, if I could.

I'm not a monster and I doubt there are enough lifeboats for everyone.

With the teleporters linked to counterparts set up near Pavonis, I gave a general order to abandon ship. Or rather, 'Thule' did, as I'd copied his voice and used it to give orders over the ship's intercom. Hesitantly, the first of the crew started trickling through the teleporters. They stepped through, looked around as if trying to regain their footing, and then looked up to the sky in fear and awe.

Wait, had any of them ever been planet-side before? Judging by their expressions, I guess not.

Which reminded me, I'd have to build a roof over the Kronus-side teleporters. The gawking idiots who refused to step off the platform because they were afraid they were going to fall off the planet were holding up the damn queue.

Back on the ship, progress was slow but steady. Within an hour, the primary transportation highways that ran along the ship's spine were mostly under my control and entire sections of the ship were being evacuated. Faster than I'd expected, to be honest, considering that I was attacking an Astartes vessel. Then again, there was no coordinated ship-wide counter-boarding effort so long as I was on the comms. Even the occasional Space Marine barely slowed me down. Some of them weren't even wearing their armor.

Although that might have something to do with the bugs I'd placed in their suits earlier. I guess the Blood Ravens' caution was working against them.

At any rate, once the defenders were cleared, the subsequent evacuation was surprisingly easy. So long as I used Thule's voice when ordering people around, the Litany of Fury's crew was remarkably compliant and didn't seem to question the strange robots or their own shredded crew mates. For once, the Imperials' blind obedience was working in my favor and I wasn't going to complain about it. Besides, I was in a relatively good mood, considering the circumstances. While clearing the ship and cleaning out the various armories (most of it didn't belong to the Blood Ravens anyway), I found all sorts of wonderful goodies: weapons, vehicles, and rare artifacts from all over the galaxy, many of which I had yet to begin to analyze. But the real prize: three suits of Terminator Armor.

Oh fuck the hell yes.

Meanwhile, Thule and his command staff had left the bridge, fighting towards what appears to be the main reactor. I guess they wanted to scuttle the ship. Not on my watch. This baby hasn't even been insured yet. No way I'd be losing her now.

I decided to take my new acquisitions for a test drive. After exhaustively analyzing every little component in the Terminator suits, I made a few modifications. First, I replaced the control system with one of my own design, allowing me to use them in combat even without a human inside. Next, I replaced the power system in the suits 'backpack' with one of my own and moved it inside the giant pauldrons of doom for protection. In the 'backpack', I placed a few shaped charges facing outwards, just in case anyone tries to get clever and sneak up on me.

The design was far from finished, but this would have to do for now. Besides, it's Terminator armor. That stuff is amazing, even by my standards. Amazingly difficult to reproduce too, unfortunately. At any rate, I took a teleporter and brought the suits as close to Thule as I could. Meanwhile, I moved in to surround him with regular troops, in case the Terminators weren't enough.

As I moved in with the Terminators, Thule sighed in relief. "Brothers, thank the Emperor we found you."

Huh, he thought I was a Blood Raven. That's hilarious, and useful. Masking my voice, I replied: "That makes two of us, captain. Our ship has been boarded and we have no idea who did it or why. What is happening? We've tried to reach the bridge, but the Vox channels are garbled."

"It's the Man of Iron. He has boarded the ship."

"No…" I said, feigning horror. "But the ship…"

"The Litany of Fury is lost. We cannot let her fall into enemy hands. Our only option is to reach the reactor and scuttle her."

I had the lead Terminator nod. An extreme measure, but understandable. "How?"

Thule produced a melta-bomb from his belt. "The main reactor cannot be detonated remotely and I can't get in touch with the techpriests maintaining it. We'll need to fight our way through and crack the casing with some explosives, or possibly your power fists. After that…a few bolt rounds should do the trick."

"That's a one-way trip, brother."

"Yes, it is."

In other words, Thule was going on a suicide mission. He could have delegated it to someone else, but he didn't. I could respect his dedication, even if it was pointless.

Well, not entirely pointless. What I had planned for the Litany of Fury was not in the Blood Ravens' best interest and destroying the ship would be a major spanner in the works. "Of course, Captain. Lead the…" Suddenly, Anteas waved his staff and blasted the suits of their feet.

"There's no one inside!" The librarian shouted. Immediately, the Space Marines scattered and jumped for cover. I opened fire with the storm bolters, but was only able to take out a single tactical marine before the rest dove into cover. "He stole our Terminator armor and is puppeteering them through techno-sorcery!"

"Martellus is going to blow a fuse…literally." Thule muttered to himself before asking: "Why are you doing this? We're going to destroy the Litany of Fury. That's exactly what you want."

"If the Litany of Fury is gone, I won't be able to stop the other ship, captain." I replied, while sending in the rest of the bots. "At least, not before Kyras turns the planet into a fire-pit. I need this ship and I need it intact, thank you very much. Besides, it's also my best ticket out of this system and away from all the crazy people."

"You can't!" The captain roared back. "This ship…it is not yours to take."

I laughed. "First: Glass houses. Second: Don't fly what you can't afford to lose, Thule. Now, would you kindly get the hell of my ship?"

"This isn't your ship yet, machine."

"Au contraire. It is my ship for I have more Dakka than you."

As I spoke the words, a warp rift opened up behind me. "Are you sure about that?" Kyras calmly said, a ball of eldritch flame appearing in his hand. Cursing silently, I ordered every bot in the vicinity to open fire, but the shells and beams harmlessly collided with some kind of invisible barrier, with only a slight flinch on Kyras's face showing that they did any harm at all.

"Chapter master…"

"Go, Davian. I'll hold them off."

I chuckled. "Oh, how heroic of you. Seriously, why is everyone so quick to throw their lives away for impossible causes? Are you people having some sort of noblest death competition?" I started moving more units in. "Then again, you have no intention of dying here, now do you? You're just going to teleport out while Thule and his merry band of suicidal idiots take one for the team."

Kyras raised his hand and a spear of fire shot out, impaling one of the Terminators and burning a hole straight through its chest. I let it fall over while the others escaped. Slowly, the chief-librarian followed, force-staff at the ready. "I seemed to have made a very poor impression on you, Commander Black." He said, tauntingly. "Assuming, of course, that is your real name."

"Yeah, attacking your allies and trying to blow up a planet full of innocent people to cover up what you're really up to tends to do that to people, especially when you try to shift the blame on me. Also, never put much stock in names myself. Just labels we use to differentiate one meatbag from another." I ordered the fallen terminator to fire, causing the Space Marine to teleport away.

"Oh, but there is power in names. More so than you realize." Sick of hiding, Kyras telekinetically ripped the bulkheads apart. Big mistake, magic man. Without the walls obstructing them, dozens of bots opened fire and Kyras would have to run. Or so I thought. Kyras's psychic barrier held and the bots attacking him were ripped apart with fire and lightning.

"I suppose you're not entirely wrong. I guess names like 'Magnus the Red' have a great deal of significance." Meanwhile, Thule and company had broken through my blockade and were only a few hundred meters from the reactor room. Once they got there… I was out of time. I accessed the Litany of Fury's systems and initiated an emergency jettison of the deck he had occupied. The massive slab of metal cut itself loose from the ship and drifted into space, along with the captain, his Space Marine followers, and two thousand crewmembers, most of whom didn't have access to personal life support.

A costly sacrifice, but the ship was saved. For now.

At the same time, I decided to solve the reactor problem more permanently. As unlikely as it was, I couldn't risk one of the engineers realizing what was going on and blow the ship to kingdom come. A forward team of seekers flew in and started abducting people, dragging them away from their work stations and through the nearest teleporter. Some, especially the lead Techmarine, were able to resist, but I had them neutralized with the seekers' nose mounted plasma weapons. The others followed without question after that. Soon, the reactor was mine and just to be sure I had a few fabricators melt the doorways shut.

As the ship shook from the jettisoned deck, Kyras frowned. "I see. It appears you have won this round, then. Farewell." Then, he disappeared, teleporting away to parts unknown. I checked every camera I had, but couldn't find him. Was he still on the ship? Could be, as camera coverage was far from universal. Not that I'd find him, even if it was. Kyras wouldn't have gotten to where he was if he didn't have an escape plan.

Soon after Kyras had left, the ship had fallen under my control. Well, sort off. The gun decks and engine sections were still under Imperial control, but they just followed orders from the bridge and still had no idea that the ship had already fallen under my control. Thanks to Imperial discipline, they didn't even try to run. Officers and preachers were whipping the gunners into a fury, unwittingly helping me destroy the handful of escorts that hadn't fled the battlefield or were destroyed. It was tragic and hilarious at the same time, and I wondered if the Imperials would learn anything from this. It certainly fitted with my earlier speech about faith and how it can be subverted…

But I digress. The Scientia Est Potentia was still headed towards us at full speed, undamaged and with a considerable escort fleet. The badly wounded Litany of Fury wouldn't be able to take them on. At least, not without a plan. "Admiral de Ruyter, the Litany of Fury has been neutralized. Are you in position?"

De Ruyter's ships were running on a ballistic trajectory towards the enemy fleet. "Yes, we're waiting on you and… Ah, there it is."

'It' being a 50 kilometer metal asteroid that was screaming towards the enemy battle barge, using strategically placed Halley thrusters to make last-minute course corrections to account for evasive maneuvering by the Scientia Est Potentia. Soon, the Blood Ravens realized that they weren't going to dodge the giant boulder of doom headed towards their fleet and opened fire, using their massive bombardment cannons to crack open the asteroid. They succeeded, ripping the massive rock into dozens of pieces, but that did very little to help. Instead of getting hit by a single object, the Blood Ravens now faced a shotgun blast of rock, and when the largest piece was still twice the size of their ship…

The rocks struck, the first overpowering the Void shields and creating massive holes in the ship's port side. Then the largest rock slammed into the ship.

There was no sound in space, but if there was, I could only imagine the deafening slam of stone-on-metal. The Scientia Est Potentia was dragged along by the sheer momentum of the boulder, bending and twisting until the rock slid off the vessel, tearing away part of the upper decks with it. In mere minutes, we'd reduced a once proud warship to a ruined pile of metal.

Except it still wasn't dead. The ship's engines flared to life and the vessel continued its death march to Kronus.

Seriously, what was that thing made off and how the fuck is it still working?

"All ships, this is our chance. I want a full volley of torpedoes on their strike cruisers. Son of Bladen, circle around their port side and engage with your macro-cannons. The Great Faith, engage their escort craft and take them out of the battle, one way or another. Dawn of Savaven, you and I will strike right through their formation."

Shaking my metaphorical head, I watched as De Ruyter's fleet sprang to life and engaged. With much of the Blood Ravens' fleet scattered and moving to support their ruined flagship, it was the perfect moment to strike. The Imperial Navy launched a massive volley of torpedoes, forcing the Space Marines to frantically dodge the incoming projectiles. Most couldn't: the vessels weren't slow, but torpedoes were just that much faster. One unlucky strike cruiser took a bad hit to the rear and vanished in a ball of fire. Another was crippled and forced to risk an emergency warp jump. The last intact cruiser and its escorts put up a valiant defense and held off the Imperials for far longer than I'd thought, but that didn't matter. Our ships weren't going to strike the killing blow against that battle barge anyway. That part was up to me and General Alexander.

With the Blood Ravens' fleet reeling and distracted, I moved in. I didn't have a lot of space fighters (and certainly not enough to take on the ship myself), but I did have two other things working in my favor: friends and loot. The former came in the form of a wave of Furies and Starhawks, launched from the admiral's cruiser. The latter consisted of the fleet of Thunderhawks taken when I claimed the Litany of Fury's launch bays.

Because Thunderhawks were more than just transports. They could mount missiles, heavy bombs, armor-piercing cannons, and enough lighter weapons to reduce enemy fighters to mince-meat. So naturally, I saved the design for optimization and modified the existing ones for my own personal use. With the crew replaced with bots, their machine spirits replaced with programs that didn't make me want to vomit, and their cargo holds filled with fabricators and combat units, the newly liberated Thunderhawks were ready to go.

Immediately, the Scientia Est Potentia launched its own vessels to intercept mine. Expected, but not a problem. Between the Thunderhawks, the Imperials, and my own existing space fighter fleet, we had them outnumbered four-to-one.

Like a swarm of angry bees, the comparatively tiny space fighters and interceptors buzzed around the enemy's fighter fleet, throwing them off balance and forcing them to chase down the smaller, but much more maneuverable craft. Meanwhile, my own Thunderhawks circled the cloud like vultures, picking off enemy vessels from afar. In less than half an hour, the battle was done and the road to the battle barge was open to us.

The imperial bombers reached the ship first, practically raking it with plasma and melta bombs. Then came the Thunderhawks, who flew straight into the ship's open maw. There, the gunships' weapons opened up on anything that moved, crewman and Space Marine alike. An alarm went off and the launch bay doors shut, but by then I was already inside, wreaking havoc. Under the cover of Thunderhawk fire, the fabricators went to work. In minutes, the veritable army of build capacity had set up the teleporters I needed. The first linked to the Litany of Fury, where I moved most of my existing units, along with a heap of captured Space Marine war machines (that I've hastily repainted), from that ship to this one. The second linked to the surface, where the Imperial Guard was waiting.

"Are we sure this thing works, sir?" Regimental commissar Anton Gebbit asked.

Alexander chuckled. "Afraid our newfound friend won't follow through?"

"It would be a cold day in hell when I trust the Mechanids, sir." Mechanids. As in: mechanical Tyranids. Apparently, that had become the regiment's nickname for me and my forces. I wasn't sure what to think about that. "Mostly, it's not that I fear death, it's that being melted into a puddle by untested archeotech is a shoddy way to go."

Some people have no faith in me. "Just so that you know, Commissar, I tested it on the Litany of Fury's crew. They're fine, you'll be too. I'd be more worried about the army of genetically-engineered super-soldiers on the other end." As I spoke through their vox systems, I could see the guardsmen tense. As in, all of them. Like they've suddenly developed a sixth sense for disembodied murderbots. "Also, the teleporter is linked with the Scientia Est Potentia. You can go through whenever you're ready."

The general nodded. "Operator, patch me through to the men." He cleared his throat. "Kronus Liberators, we carry a terrible burden. We are soldiers of the Imperium. The hammer, wielded by our God-Emperor against those who would take up arms against Mankind. One of many tools in His arsenal by which his worlds are kept safe. And now…now we must take up arms against another such tool. For weeks, the Blood Ravens have kept to themselves, waiting in the shadows. They demanded that we leave this world to their care, against our orders and our duty. While we have tried to appeal to reason and convince the Space Marines to stop, they have not listened and are now preparing to unleash the ultimate judgement upon this world: an Exterminatus. Azariah Kyras would rather raze this planet to the ground than let us have it. We have given them every opportunity to depart or fight alongside us. We have conceded to every demand that we could, while still following our orders, and it isn't enough. Then, on the cusp of our victory, just when this planet might finally know peace, they come to destroy us all.

"I do not know what possessed him to resort to such extremes, but I do know this: Kronus belongs to us. It belongs to the Emperor, and no one, not even the Angels of Death, have the right to take her from us. We are the Hammer of the Emperor. We are the first Kronus Liberators. We are humanity's first and last line of defense, and with our undying lord as our witness, we will push these maniacs from our world, in the Emperor's name!"

The men roared behind him, a battlecry so loud that even my bots on the other side of the portal could hear it. Lucas Alexander turned around and charged through the teleporter without hesitation, followed by his men. The guardsmen spread out, taking cover behind the ruined remains of strike craft and vehicles. Alexander and his squad didn't. He ran towards the nearest Blood Raven, lightning claws cackling with power. The sergeant lashed out with his chainsword and he threw himself to the ground, taking out the Space Marine's knee with his claws. The marine fell to one knee and was promptly taken out by a boltpistol shot to the head, courtesy of the commissar.

"There," Gebbit declared "you see how it is done. Now, forward! We will not be shown up by an army of automatons!"

I didn't take up the challenge. I'm a professional, after all.

Besides, I had bigger fish to fry. Like the Blood Raven's first company captain that was eying one of my stolen dreadnaughts, for instance. Captain Diomedes…well, he wasn't bad, but he was kind of a prideful idiot. I guess taking him down a peg would be good for him.

Assuming he survived the lesson.

The white-helmeted captain charged forward, engaging my dreadnaught in melee combat. I tried to grab him with one of my claws, but the marine gracefully ducked under my hand and jumped right into my face. He brandished his power sword and rammed it through the machine's chest, where the organic pilot normally would be. The dreadnaught slumped and Diomedes withdrew his sword, pointing it at the general as a challenging gesture. I can only assume that that was supposed to embolden his men or terrify Alexander into retreating.

Instead, the general just smiled.

In the blink of an eye, the dreadnaught whirred to life and grabbed the distracted captain. "Some. People. Never. Learn!" I said, pounding Captain Diomedes into the ground with every word. A devastator marine fired a rocket at the dreadnaught, finally bringing it down and saving the captain. I passed on the offending marine's location to a nearby shadow, who dealt with him promptly.

Nevertheless, the damage was already done. Slowly but surely, overwhelming numbers forced the Space Marines to withdraw and the loss of one of their most celebrated captains didn't help either. Of course, they didn't have the decency to run like little girls. No, they had to make us fight for every inch while slowly and orderly backing away until they were outside the launch bay. Then, massive blast doors slammed shut, sealing us out. They tried venting the launch bay, but I quickly put a stop to that. At any rate, we had a moment to catch our breath. I used the time to set up a larger teleporter for the mechanized company.

Since boarding in the 40k universe involved tank battles.

Because fuck you with a cannon the size of a city block, that's why.

"Status report." The general shouted, calling his staff officers. "Casualties?"

"Tolerable, considering we just invaded a Space Marine battle barge." The vox operator, a kasrkin sergeant named Kirnov, said. I looked around and counted hundreds of bodies. It's not even the worst slaughter I've seen. "Throne, we're on a battle barge. And attacking it…"

"Keep it together and we'll get through this." Alexander chided. "Do we have a full scan of the interior?"

I drove up a fabricator bot and crafted a crude holographic projector in front of them. After a few moments, it sprang to life, showing a wire-frame model of the Scientia Est Potentia. "This is the best I can get: combination of surface scans, internal readings, and what little I could gather from the networks. Between the rock I threw at it and the hammering of the Imperial Navy…well, the ship has seen better days. I can probably seize environmental controls wherever we go, but that won't help everywhere. We'll have to watch our step. I'd hate to see good men suffocate to death unnecessarily."

"A sentiment we all appreciate." Commissar Gebbit stated.

The general nodded. "Do you have camera access, commander?"

"Yes, but the Space Marines are shooting them out wherever they can. I can tell you that they're gathering outside those doors and that we'll be walking right into a killing zone, no matter what we do. Also, we managed to attract just about every Space Marine on the ship. Between them and the armsmen…"

"In other words, nothing we weren't expecting. What will be, will be." Alexander noted grimly. He touched his earpiece and made a call. "Lieutenant Vasiri, how are things on your end?"

In the end, we were just a distraction. While we were causing a mess at the front of the ship, a navy lieutenant called Vasiri led a strike team of elite armsmen deployed via assault craft to attack the real target: the Scientia Est Potentia's primary generator. "Not good. Throne-damned Terminators found us and are blocking our way. Bastards keep teleporting around and ambushing us. We're not making much headway at this rate."

The general frowned. "Damn. I'd hoped we'd have more time." He pointed to several parts in the ship's holographic model. "If Vasiri and his men can't follow through, we're going to have to cut through the ship's highways and destroy the reactor ourselves. Even with armor support, it's going to be bloody. Is there any way we can avoid that?"

Ozman, the command squad's Sanctioned Psyker raised his hand. "I may have a solution, general." He sounded old and frail. Looked that way too. Like someone who had no business being on a battlefield. Nevertheless, he was pulling his weight with his powers, having fried nearly half a dozen Space Marines with his lightning powers. "We can turn the ship's teleportaria against them and teleport our enemies somewhere away from our men. If the good machine's map is accurate, then the nearest should be here, well within our reach." He pointed at an area only a hundred meters away from the launch bay.

"We'll have to physically fight our way there, though." I quickly pointed out. "I can't access it from here."

"You'll need my assistance, at any rate." The psyker added. "Unlike yours, Imperial teleportation technology requires passage through the Warp. Their operation requires a psionic component."

Alexander nodded. "And you could do that?"

"Yes, provided I have some help with the mechanical parts of the technology. I am sure the good commander can assist."

I let the bots nod. "Of course." I had the fabricators construct a small batch of muninn infiltrators. "Take these. In case you make it but my bots don't. Always good to have a plan B."

"That it is." The general said, smiling softly and placing one of the drones in a pouch on his uniform. The rest of the command squad did the same, hiding them in empty holsters or, in the commissar's case, under his hat. "Captain Vash, is your mechanized company ready?"

Slowly but surely, the second company had driven their tanks through the teleporter. Mostly Leman Russes and mechanized infantry, but also a motherfucking Baneblade. The magpies wouldn't know what hit them. "Almost finished, sir. Ready to ruin someone's day."

"Good to hear. Second Company, I need you to cut through the central causeway. Don't bother advancing too far. Just cause as much of a mess as you can and coordinate your fire with the Mechanids. I don't want you causing a hull breach. First Company, spread out through the bulkheads and run interference. Third and Fourth, you'll take on the port and starboard causeways respectively. Kasrkin squads, you're with me. We're heading for that teleportarium and save the Navy like we always do. Captain Vash, you'll have battle command. Kronus Liberators, move out!"

With a precision that I didn't think I'd see from a human army, the guardsmen marched in line with my own units to their positions. The doors leading deeper into the vessel were practically covered in breaching charges. As one, they exploded and our combined armies poured through.

The Space Marines guarding the central causeway were the first to get hit. From their perspective, there was a loud explosion followed by a thunderous roar. When the smoke cleared, they found themselves looking at the mangled remains of a blast door with the colossal form of the Baneblade perched on top.

"Knock-knock, you bastards!"

The tank opened fire and vaporized a castle-like parapet that the marines were using as a defense turret. An instant later (probably once everyone realized that there was a motherfucking Baneblade squeezing its way through a corridor twice its width), they returned fire.

"Aww, they're shooting at us. That's adorable. Hit them again!"

Meh, they're going to be fine.

The Navy on the other hand…

By now, the Scientia Est Potentia had turned around and opened fire with its mostly undamaged starboard weapon batteries. With the Litany of Fury still too damaged to really help, I did what I could with my remaining Thunderhawks, but couldn't bring the weapons down fast enough. The Son of Bladen got a full broadside and was forced to disengage, and the Dawn of Savaven was taking damage. I really hoped Ozman's plan worked. They wouldn't be able to last much longer.

The general, his Kasrkin, and a legion of my bots spread through the ship like a plague. The Blood Ravens put up a fight, but between the guards tearing up the causeways, my bots, and the Kasrkin's plasma weapons, we were able to cut through them with relatively little effort.

As much as that term can apply to fighting Space Marines…

Resistance or no, we managed to reach our objective. After chasing out the astropaths by threatening them with the commissar, Ozman grabbed the infiltrator in his pocket and placed it on the machine. I immediately dug in and familiarized myself with the teleportarium, overriding the security features in the process and saving a copy. The device was…strange. Incomplete. I could interface with it quite easily and discern most of its functions, but it felt like there was something missing. I could see the teleport homers in the suits on the far side of the ship, I could see the mechanisms that were supposed to cut holes in the barrier between the material and immaterial worlds, but I couldn't figure out how I was supposed to target it. If I were to use it now, I'd create a pair of warp rifts, but I couldn't control where.

Then Ozman jammed some wires into his helmet and I understood. He wasn't controlling the device, he was an actual part of it. Bizarre signals started flooding into the cogitators I'd taken over. I'd decided to just let Ozman do his thing, because from my perspective it looked like he was randomly pressing buttons.

Then again, he might as well be.

"Ozman, how is it going?" Alexander asked, a slight hint of urgency in his voice. Judging from the increased resistance, we probably wouldn't be able to hold this position for long.

Suddenly, the teleportarium sprang to life and the Terminators' teleport homers changed location. They ended up…somewhere in the starboard side?

"And done. I put them in the barrels of the starboard macro-cannons, which should fire any second now…" As if on cue, the guns fired. This time, however, a series of massive explosions that shook the entire vessel. The cannons' ammunition must have detonated while still inside the barrel. Probably due to a collision with suits of comically misplaced Terminator armor. "Filthy mutant, they said. You're lucky they're letting you live, they said. How could your witchcraft stand up to a mighty bolter, they said. WELL, THIS IS HOW!" Then, realizing he was not alone, Ozman cleared his throat. "Ahem. Sorry, general."

"Good to see you're enjoying your job. Be sure to see Father Martel when this is over." The general said, smiling. "Vasiri, report."

Almost instantly, the lieutenant called back: "You have the Emperor's own timing, general. Don't know what you did, but the Termies are gone. We'll blow this baby sky-high in a couple of minutes."

"Acknowledged, Lieutenant. I'll start evacuating immediately. The Emperor protects." Alexander switched channels. "All personnel, our objectives are complete. Initiate a fighting retreat back to the portals. I want everyone planetside before it…"

Suddenly, Ozman screamed. "KYRAS!"

A warp rift opened around thirty meters away. On cue, Kyras and a pair of Assault Terminators stepped through. Immediately, they leaped into combat, annihilating an unfortunate squad of Kasrkin in seconds. "I will admit: I am impressed, Commander." He said. "Forming an alliance with the Imperial Guard and Navy, taking over one battle barge and turning its arsenal against us… You are a worthy adversary."

"Give up, Kyras." I said, laying fire on the advancing terminators with everything I had. Massed fire from me and the Guardsmen felled one of the Terminators, but the other was still charging. "Even if you kill them, you'll still lose the ship. Even if you can save the Scientia Est Potentia, I'm still here. The Litany of Fury may be a wreck now, but so is your fleet and I can fix ships a hell of a lot faster than you can."

Kyras waved with his hand and a dozen of my bots imploded. "I wouldn't be so sure of that, little Man of Iron. After all, everyone has a weakness, and I think I just found yours." Meanwhile, the general joined the fray. "Hello, Lucas."

"This ends here, Space Marine!" The general shouted back, brandishing his lightning claws in defiance. "Stand down. Enough Imperial blood has been spilled already."

"Please, General. The Adeptus Astartes has seniority over the Astra Militarum. You know how this will end. Even if you are victorious, your decisions will lead you to destruction."

"Kronus will not burn while I stand, Kyras. Your Space Marines have fought valiantly, but this is over."

"Indeed," Kyras said, calling a ball of warp power into being "it is." He held out his hand, lighting lashing out at the general. Alexander screamed.

The universe slowed. I threw every anti-tank grenade I had at the remaining Terminator, finally bringing it down. Our fire shifted to Kyras, but he blocked it with contemptuous ease, slowly walking towards the fallen general before bringing down his staff. For a moment, I thought that Alexander was going to die, but then Commissar Gebbit jumped in front of him and blocked it with his power sabre. Kyras just laughed, slowly forcing the staff down while blasting the other troops away. At least, until the muninn hiding under the commissar's hat jumped onto his face.

Immediately, I bit down into whatever soft tissue I could find. I tore at his face, ripped out one of his eyeballs, and had the tiny fabricator produce every caustic material I could think off. Kyras roared in pain, wildly pulling the bot off his face and taking a sizable chuck of it for good measure. Alexander pulled himself up and reached for the nearest weapon he could find: a thunder hammer from one of the fallen Space Marines.

We weren't done yet, though. We'd hurt the chapter master, but he wasn't dead. Flames formed around Kyras and a wave of fire exploded outward incinerating more men and bots.

"Ozman!" I shouted to the psyker, who throughout the fight had been nearly catatonic. "Ozman, we need you!"

"W-what?"

"Warp rift, right behind that over-engineered jackass, leaving to the ass end of nowhere, if you'd please!"

Hazily, the psyker began muttering and did what I asked. A rift formed behind the librarian and I ordered every bot I had to charge and push him in. The enraged chapter master flailed around him wildly, tearing everything he could reach apart with his powers until I got a seeker right next to his ear and whispered: "Say hello to Ulkair for me."

Kyras's head shot around, looking at me with a horrified expression on his face. It left him distracted long enough for Alexander to get up and strike him with a thunder hammer, knocking him off balance and allowing me to drag him kicking and screaming into the Warp. A moment later, the rift closed behind him and the units caught on the other side self-destructed.

"Is it…is it over?" Alexander asked, shaking on his feet.

"Yes, general." Gebbit replied, picking up his hat. "Kyras is gone."

"Good…get everyone…get everyone off the…" The general fell unconscious before he could finish his sentence. Knowing what had to happen, we evacuated, taking all the wounded and as many of the dead as we could.

When the ship was cleared, I took control of a Thunderhawk, aimed its cameras at the ship, and waited.

The first thing I saw was a massive explosion at the rear of the ship. The reactor just blew up. It was followed by secondary explosions along the ship's hull: secondary reactors, weapons storage, and batteries. Then, the chamber where the cyclonic torpedoes were being held detonated and the Scientia Est Potentia vanished in a blinding flash of light.

--

I set up a TV screen soon after and showed the footage of the ship exploding to the men. The Guardsmen seemed to approve. As for Kyras…

Well, let me put it this way: knowing this universe and how things always tend to end up for the worse, if you seriously think that this is the last we've seen of that lunatic, you haven't been paying attention.

With the Blood Ravens thoroughly dealt with, I'd hoped that things would go quiet for a while. The Inquisition was still coming, after all, and I really wanted to be gone before they got to Kronus. Besides, I still had stuff to do: fix up the Litany of Fury, fit it with a warp drive designed by non-crazy people, and load it up with all my stuff.

Naturally, the Necrons decided that now would be a very good time to wake up en masse.

Yes, I am bitter! That was supposed to be a relatively easy victory after that mess I just went through with the Space Marines. Get in, steal all the goodies (somehow) and get out. But, no, some robotic jackass just had to shit on my parade and refuse to stay down.

I'm aware of the irony, thank you.

Ugh. Well, at least I got a friend out of it…

--

The peace General Alexander and I had earned lasted for about three hours. As if the hand of God mashed the shit-storm button with a thunder hammer, the Necrons started to rise from the sands en masse and kill everything in sight.

General Alexander was still unconscious, Captain Vash was busy trying to reorganize what was left of the First Kronus regiment, Admiral de Ruyter desperately tried to duct tape his ships back together, and everyone else was dead, gone, or sulking in a jettisoned can of space debris, courtesy of yours truly.

So, omnicidal robots are killing everyone and I, Commander Black, was the only one who could stop them.

Somehow, I got the feeling that that was going to be a recurring theme of my adventures.

Anyway, not being in the mood to deal with any of this shit, I swung the Litany of Fury around, loaded a few conventional rounds in the bombardment cannons (not the planet killer variety; I didn't want to explode the planet I just saved), and opened fire. Slowly, but surely, the Necron force was driven back under the weight of heavy ordinance.

It would have been much faster, if I didn't have to manually load the shells with mecs, but hey, that's Imperial engineering for you: they can bend physics like a pretzel and travel faster than light, but getting a bunch of auto-loaders is apparently too much to ask.

Another thing to put on the list when I renovated the Litany of Fury.

At any rate, the Necrons still had to be dealt with in a more permanent manner. As appealing as following the canon route was and just suicide-bomb the place until the caverns came down, I really needed their technology for my long-term survival. I really didn't want to but… Oh, hell. Think about the shinies. Just think about all the shinies.

Orbital bombardment would only get me so far. Trying to win this through attrition wouldn't work either: the Necrons can come back from the dead a near-infinite amount of time. We'd be fighting until the heat death of the universe if I tried going that route. Or until the Inquisition blows us both to kingdom come. Anyway, this is where Taldeer's maps actually came in handy. According to her intel, Necron technology requires a lot of power. While most Necron models can generate enough power to run their own bodies and some basic tools, their equipment and, most importantly, their reconstruction technology were extremely energy-intensive. In order to fight off attrition and keep the tomb's armies going, the Necrons had built a series of massive power generators and used a power-distribution system to transfer the energy to where it was needed. A system not unlike my own.

I tried not to think too hard about the implications.

At any rate, I knew my objective now: snipe the power generators and the tomb would be mine for the taking. Naturally, these strategic targets were in the deepest part of the caverns, as far away from the surface as possible. I only needed to reach them somehow.

To that end: the holes. Before the mess with the Blood Ravens, I'd started drilling holes in the Thur'Abis plateau. Holes which were almost complete, giving me a way to deal with the undying robots in a way that didn't involve just burying them. One that would leave me with a metric ton of shiny objects to play with. Now I just needed something to actually attack them with. Easier said than done: between Chaos and the Blood Ravens, I really didn't have a lot of manpower left and with the Inquisition hanging over me like a Sword of Damocles, I didn't have time to rebuild them. The stolen equipment from the Litany of Fury would help, but I didn't think that was going to be enough. Besides, the Necrons had already shown that they could match anything I had technologically with their deadly accurate, though relatively slow-firing…

Of course. Slow firing weapons, countered with overwhelming numbers. Legions of disposable swarmers that would literally bury the enemy in metal. I fired up my designing software and got to work.

An hour later, massive structures started to appear around the holes. They looked like giant factories, with conveyor belts leading into the hole. Once the factories were done, I waited for the drills to finish. Soon, they breached the caverns and fell. As they went down, I activated the lights mounted on the sides of the drills and looked around. Dozens, if not hundreds of Necron warriors and various other constructs had assembled around the holes I'd created. All of them had their weapons raised directly at the hole, ready to shred anything that'd come through.

Wait a second, I think I've seen this in a movie once. If the Necron Lord shouts 'For Zion!' before opening fire, I'm going to repurpose them all as batteries.

Before the drills hit the ground, they were ripped apart by gauss fire and crashed into a fiery heap. As one, my factories started producing the swarmers I'd designed. Individually, these little robots were essentially flying paperweights. Most of them were little more than foot-long, barely guided missiles consisting of a small solid-fuel rocket engine, some fins, a tiny computer, and an even tinier payload of nanobots programmed to eat anything it came into contact with when the rocket hit. Others had tiny cameras, letting me guide the flight-paths of their blind cousins. Still others were filled with shrapnel, metal flakes, and other things that would (hopefully) either confuse Necron sensors or absorb some fire. All of them were so light and cheap that I could run all the factories at full speed and still have enough metal left over to touch up my new ship and slowly rebuild my armies. Meanwhile, thousands of drones were piled onto the conveyor belts and dropped into the hole as one continuous stream. I even had to use the fins to keep them from slamming into each other as the cloud of metal fell.

Then, the drones reached the caverns and the Necrons opened fire as one. Lighting, projectiles, and energies that human science probably had no name for were hurled at the swarm. The drones were destroyed by the hundreds. Almost all of them were intercepted and destroyed.

Almost being the key word.

For every hundred they shot down, one or two drones managed to get through and unleashed their deadly cargo. Some of them hit an unfortunate Necron, who quickly phased out for repair. Others hit the structures, where the nanobot payload began to eat into the necrodermis walls.

Quickly, I analyzed the living metal and found…that it didn't make a lot of sense. No, that wasn't entirely true. Living metal…it's an actual lifeform. It had cells and organelles and dozens of other structures analogous to organic life. How it worked exactly? Something to think about later. Even if I didn't know how it worked, I did manage to figure out how to identify it at a glance, even when it was part of an alloy. Markers, basically, like cells using glycoproteins to identify each other. Markers I could identify and turn against their creators. Smiling, I reprogrammed the nanobots inside the missiles. Instead of eating everything before burning out, I ordered them to eat necrodermis and keep replicating so long as there was more of the stuff to feed on.

In short: anti-Necron grey goo, or more accurately, a mechanical virus tailor-made for Necron technology.

My first test bed was an inactive monolith. A few of the new missiles struck and the payload started doing its thing. Exponential growth was in full effect and in less than an hour, the colossal machine was falling apart, oozing streams of greyish liquid. The Necron Lord must have noticed, as he teleported next to the monolith and activated a ball-like device. A pulse of energy washed over the monolith and millions of tiny, insect-sized scarabs started attacking my nanobots and repair damage like a mechanical immune response. I countered immediately, ordering the nanobots to alter themselves to show the same markers as the necrodermis did, tricking the scarabs into thinking that the invading machines were in fact a part of the monolith. Then, I altered the nanobot's priorities so that they focused on the scarabs first, eliminating the immune system before devouring the rest of the host.

Biology, bitch. My immunology professor would be proud. Also, I was getting ideas.

Then the Necron Lord pressed a button on his staff and aimed it at the monolith. Electricity coursed through the machine, flash-frying the nanobots, scarabs, and the monolith's internal systems, saving it from destruction. Well, sort off. With the damage it took, the monolith wasn't going to be moving anytime soon. A small victory, at any rate, and one I intended to capitalize on.

Besides, if I remembered my Warhammer lore, the devices the Necron Lord used against me were rare enough that only the lord himself would have them. Seeing that he could only be in one place at once…

I changed my production queue, ordering the drones to carry the new, improved nanobots. I also drilled a few more holes, opening up other avenues for attack. The increased metal use strained my economy (especially since I threw one of my biggest asteroids at the Blood Ravens), but I could cope. Aiming for the largest structures and power sources, I started melting the Necron tombs piece by piece. Tirelessly, the Necron Lord teleported to a hotspot, fried the nanobots, and gated to the next. It became a running battle between my mechanical disease and the ancient Necron dispensing the cure. A battle I was slowly winning.

Wait, what?

How the hell was I winning this? These were the fucking Necrons, for God's sake. I mean, they literally killed Death, ripped him in a thousand pieces, and stuffed them in magic pokeballs for fun and profit! How was I beating these guys? Not that I should be complaining, but seriously, beating me wouldn't even be difficult. A quick reconfiguration of the maintenance scarabs should have wiped out my disease in minutes. Hell, if I were the Necron Lord, I could have thought of a dozen different ways to solve the problem without endangering any of my structures. All it'd take is a little understanding of technology…

Did he understand his technology? A good question. Necron Lords are either near-mindless command bots or life-long politicians, depending on which side of the retcon we're on. They're not scientists. It might not understand why his scarabs were failing him.

Or that's what he wanted me to think. I could be drawn into some sort of trap. Only one way to find out.

As the hours passed, I started gaining ground. With the Necrons' defenses slowly melting away, I was able to wrestle territory from them. Not much, at first, and only low-value real estate at that, but I was getting through.

So where was that other shoe?

Eventually, the Necron Lord was forced to retreat in earnest and abandon several of the outlying crypts in favor of concentrating his forces around the more valuable inner crypts. Irritatingly enough, the power generators were located there too, forcing me to run the gauntlet. Nevertheless, I pushed onwards, setting up teleporters and transitioning into a more conventional form of warfare.

Well, mostly. I recreated the Imperial flamer and modified it to launch my nanobots and its carrier fluid, giving me an infantry-scale weapon that would dispense my lovely goo. It was very effective at clearing out large concentrations of bunched-up Necron units at close range, which meant that the terrain was starting to work in my favor for once. They fought hard, and the Necron Lord turned many of my advances away himself, but eventually I managed to get close enough to detonate the first power generator.

Then the Necron Lord got really mad.

At least, that's what I thought. I still wasn't sure if he had emotions.

Without warning, the Necron Lord appeared in the chamber where the power generator once stood. I examined him, wondering what he could possibly hope to accomplish on his own. Then I noticed the small cube in his hand and prayed that wasn't what I thought it was.

The little cube floated out of the Necron Lord's hand and started glowing. Green arcs of electricity poured out as cracks appeared. Then, the cube burst open and a black fog emerged. The fog grew in size until it was ten meters high and coalesced into a vaguely humanoid shape clad in a hooded robe. It held out its hand and a massive scythe appeared out of thin air. The monstrosity turned its attention towards my bots and I felt a chill along my non-existent spine.

The Nightbringer. He sent the motherfucking Nightbringer after me.

Immediately, I opened fire with everything I had. The monster was practically buried in explosions, but didn't seem to care. It simply swung its massive scythe and cleaved the nearest bot half. The scythe went through armor as easily as it did through air and the unfortunate bot just disintegrated without the self-destruct mechanism ever activating. Whatever that C'tan was doing, it wasn't just a normal attack.

Fuck, okay. Don't panic. It's just an omnipotent being that's also utterly invulnerable. I just need to wait for it to time-out like it does in-game. Easy.

Except it was cutting through my bots too fast. Also, the other Necrons were sallying forth, making teleporting assaults against my forward bases. At this rate, I wouldn't be able to push them back while also fighting off a shard of a rampaging god. Dammit, I fought something like this before. How did I…

Ah.

"You call yourself a god, big guy?!" I shouted. No response, aside from a gesture that made a nearby tank age into nothingness. "I mean, you used to be the in charge of everything. You slaughtered the Old Ones, you conquered the galaxy, you killed so many people that you taught every species in the universe to fear death." Still no response. "Now look at you, a slave of the very people you once ruled. Way to go, Reaper Man."

I threw my best insults at the monster, but it just wasn't listening. Could it even communicate? I did remember something about the Necrons enslaving the shards, so it might not even respond to psychological warfare. If that's the case…

Fine, new plan. C'tan shards are contained in a necrodermis body. Without the body, the shard would simply fade. Ergo: destroy the necrodermis body, you destroy the C'tan shard. Easier said than done: necrodermis was stupidly resilient, even without the power of a god beefing it up. Lasers, plasma weapons, and any projectile cannon I had access to weren't cutting it. Maybe orbital bombardment, but I'd have to lead it to the surface before that would be possible. However, necrodermis did have one weakness: psionics. If I could find a sufficiently powerful psyker somewhere…

Imperial guard? Possible, but I don't think a primaris psyker is powerful enough to fight a C'tan. Eldar? I didn't know where they are.

But I might be able to lure them here. Looking over Taldeer's map, I found the Tomb of the Lost: a crypt where the Necrons housed relics of the War in Heaven, millions of years ago. It was also one of the areas sealed off and abandoned when I began my advance. With little difficulty, I melted a hole through the crypt and looked around. As expected, the place was filled with relics kept in stasis, most of which looked Eldar in nature. Dead bodies, suits of armor, weapons, and even an intact and beautifully ornate wraithguard which seemed to be the centerpiece. Jackpot, I suppose. They were useless to me, but the people of Ulthwé would probably sell their firstborns to get their hands on something like this. Smiling, I carefully removed a central structure that looked like some sort of power core and watched the stasis field dissipate.

One by one, the relics dropped to the ground. Carefully, I grabbed them and prepared them for transport to the surface, making sure that none of the relics were damaged. At least, until I found a sword at the throat of one of my bots.

"Robbing the graves of the dead, are we?" The wraithguard said, telepathically. Apparently, it was still alive. And able to communicate with me via fucking space magic.

"Since I'm planning on returning these to your people, I think the term 'dynamic archeology' is more accurate." Also, I just realized I was talking to a sixty million year-old person. Which was insane. Like everything else I've been through lately.

The sword remained where it was. "Lies, you…" The ground shook. A few kilometers away, the C'tan was still throwing a fit and murdering my stuff. "Nightbringer." The wraithguard's face couldn't emote, but I could feel the fear in his voice.

"A piece of it. That's why I'm here: I can't kill that thing on my own, so I'm trying to find something to bribe your people with. They're the ones with psychic powers, after all."

"Ridiculous." He shouted back. "We are Eldar. My people were tasked by the Ancients to fight these monstrosities. They would not need bribery, nor would they resort to some primitive, half-souled, grave-robbing machine to fight their battles for them."

I blinked. Did he really believe that? Manipulating others was literally the Eldar's shtick. Then I remembered that this guy has been asleep for sixty million years and things have probably changed. "I don't know how to say this, but, uh…your species has fallen on hard times lately. It's been a long time since the War in Heaven."

The wraithguard lowered his sword and tilted his head. "How…how long?"

"Long enough for the Eldar to rise, fall, and make way for another species. Sixty million years actually, by human calendar. They're the dominant race in the galaxy after yours fell, by the way."

He went very still. I suppose it would be hard to process. "Sixty million…"

"Yes, I'm…" Another crash. "Look, the Nightbringer is cutting through my army. I need to get your people to help me, or we're all going to die. I'd prefer if that didn't happen."

"I will come." The wraithguard said. Before I could interrupt, he held up his hand. "I was tasked by the Overseers to bury the Necrons in their own tombs. I failed and watched my kin perish by the thousands. I need to avenge them."

So he wanted to fight himself? Well, if it keeps me from having to deal with Taldeer, I suppose I couldn't complain. On the other hand… "The Necrons aren't the problem. I'm handling them. It's that wretched godling of theirs that's giving me trouble. Do you understand what you're getting into?"

The wraithgaurd stepped towards me and planted his sword into the ground. "I am Wraithseer Orkanis of the Eldar and a Knight of Asuryan. For the sake of my kin and in the name of Holy Vengeance, I vow to bring all that I have to bear on that accursed creature. Now, point me in its direction. I have a score to settle."

I blinked. The Eldar really have changed a lot over the last sixty million years. Then again, humans were little more than furry rodents back then, so I suppose that's to be expected. "Right this way." I let him climb one of my tanks and sped off towards the battle. Meanwhile, the Nightbringer was still hacking away at my forces, oblivious or uncaring of the fire arrayed against it. At least, until I arrived with Orkanis.

Almost instantly, the C'tan turned towards him, hatred radiating of its metal body. Orkanis, for his part, simply stood up. There was no battlecry or string of magic words. He simply held up his hand and a dizzying array of Eldar runes appeared in the air. Then, at some unspoken command, the runes turned into projectiles and fired, burning holes into the C'tan's necrodermis body.

The godling screamed, throwing itself towards him. I floored it, putting as much distance between Orkanis and the pissed off Nightbringer. The wraithseer fired another volley, and another after that, until the C'tan managed to plant its scythe into my tank and disable it. Orkanis didn't miss a beat. He jumped, ducking under the Nightbringer's swing and hacking off one of its legs with his sword. Meanwhile, the rest of my army caught up and opened fire. This time, however, something was different. The C'tan's body seemed more brittle than it was before. Holes were appearing in its cloak. Pieces of its form were actually breaking off and they weren't regenerating quickly enough. Where the damage was severe enough, light and gas started seeping through, like vapor from a boiling kettle.

Orkanis climbed on its back and planted his sword into his back. The Nightbringer screamed, dropping its scythe and thrashing wildly. It rammed its body into the cavern wall, scraped the ceiling, anything to get the ancient Eldar of its back. Eventually, it succeeded, grabbing the wraithseer in its hand. Orkanis would have none of it, and a wave of eldritch fire engulfed him, reducing the metal hand to slag. Meanwhile, a group of vanguards had snuck up behind the monstrosity and fired.

The Nightbringer screamed again, but this time was different. It was louder and more desperate. A scream of agony, rather than outrage. The monster collapsed in on itself, before vanishing in a blinding flash of light.

Across the caverns, the Necrons retreated back to their strong points. Making use of the diversion, I struck. Thanks to the miracle that is flame tanks, I was able to overrun a second power plant and trap at least a full third of the Necrons' standing army with a special cocktail that turned the nanobot-fluid into a thick, immobilizing foam. If it's good enough for the PRT, it's good enough for me. Necrons might be strong, but even they couldn't escape without leverage. At least, for a while. They still had teleporters, but they didn't seem to be using them right now. A cooldown period? Maybe. If nothing else, any Necrons trapped here wouldn't be able to attack me when I made my push on the Necron Lord's home base.

"It…It is gone." Orkanis whispered. "Forgive me, brothers. Forgive me for taking so long."

I had one of my bots close in. We weren't done yet. "Orkanis…"

"The answer is in the power circulation." He said, softly. "You are here to take the Necrons' foul technology, but they teleport it from your grasp, do they not?"

I never said that that's why I was here. Did he read my mind? Maybe, or maybe not. He knew about the caverns, so he probably assumed that if I just wanted them gone, I would have gone that route. "Well, yes. Not that I'll be mourning their passing, if you know what I mean."

The wraithseer chuckled softly. "To the Necrons, power circulates much like blood. When the flow of power is disrupted due to critical damage, an emergency teleportation system attached to the primary power core will activate, teleporting the wounded Necron to the nearest repair facility." He turned, looking me square in the eye. "During the War, we found a way to capture Necrons intact by attaching a power source to their chest and removing the original power core. If you were careful and lucky, you could capture a specimen and remove the teleporter, allowing you to experiment on it at your leisure. Perhaps you could do something similar."

That…actually seemed like a good idea. I thanked him and immediately got to work on the Necrons still trapped in my foam. With a bit of fumbling, I was able strap the reactor of a combat bot to an unfortunate Necron warrior. It resisted, both physically and with some sort of digital attack that was almost laughably easy to swat aside. To little avail, as I was able to reroute the Necron's power systems away from its own power core and into the bot. Then, once the Necron's power core was completely cut off from the rest of its body, I carefully pulled it out.

I looked at the power core sitting in my hand. As did the Necron. We stared at the little device together. Then the Necron looked at me and I wondered what was going through its little mechanical head. Ignoring those thoughts, I turned off the power leading into the Necron and watched it slump like a puppet with its strings cut. Slump, but not disappear.

Holy shit, I actually did it! I captured a Necron alive!

I turned my attention to the rest of the captives and repeated the procedure. Most didn't go as well as the first, with me crossing the wrong wires and the Necron in question teleporting away, but enough worked for me to have a considerable pile of captives to go X-COM on.

Meanwhile, the Necron Lord was in full retreat, only appearing when he had a chance to free some of his troops. A number that was slowly decreasing. In fact, by now he was only slowing the inevitable. The effect of the loss of the power plants was telling: the number of Necrons on the field was slowly dwindling and the ones that were still fighting were much more cautious than before. A third power plant went down, and I could practically smell my victory coming.

Almost a week after the first breach, I finally had the Necrons cornered in their palace. At least, I think it was a palace. It looked like a massive, monolithic tower in the middle of an even more massive cavern. The tower itself appeared to be one solid object, decorated with Necron hieroglyphs but, strangely enough, completely unarmed with little to no places for the defenders to fire down at my forces. To me, it didn't look like a good place to perform a last stand in. In fact, the only thing keeping me out was the enormous double door functioning as a gate and that wasn't going to hold me for long.

Soon, I thought. Soon all the shinies will be mine.

Then, with no preamble or horn call, the doors opened and the Necron Lord charged out. Dressed in his most impressive wargear and backed by what I assumed were his elite guard, he sallied forth like King Théoden of Rohan.

That's the second movie the Necrons and I have reenacted so far. In both, I was playing the roles of the bad guys. Not sure what to think about that.

To his credit, the Necron Lord and his last troops fought heroically, cutting a deep wedge in my forces and cutting them down by the hundreds, but the outcome of the battle was never in doubt. Did he really think I'd let him escape? At best, he sped up his own defeat by leaving the palace and its (albeit limited) defenses. At worst, he handed me his best shinies on a silver platter. As the Necrons fought, my forces encircled them and buried them all in foam. Eventually, only the Necron Lord himself was standing, having teleported out of his prison. Even that only bought him only a few seconds before the bots physically dogpiled him, ripping his staff out of his hands. Still, he continued fighting, lashing out against everything he could reach before I was finally able to subdue him.

A few minutes after that, and I had his power core in my hand. As he was looking, it sputtered and melted into slag that dripped through my fingers. Immediately, the Necron Lord's posture changed. It was like the fight just left him. Instead of angry, he looked…resigned. Defeated.

Well, about time, you soulless, murderous bastard.

With a sigh, I got to back to work. Now that the Necrons were defeated, I had my units spread out and strip everything. Devices, vehicles, even the buildings themselves were taken. In true X-COM tradition, everything not nailed, bolted, and riveted to the floor was dragged through the teleporters and into space. I'd have plenty of time to analyze it all once I'd left the Kronus system.

Back at the Tomb of the Lost, Orkanis stood silently over the bodies and artifacts of his brethren. I approached him, wondering what he was going to do now. He was an Eldar, yes, but one from a completely different time period. Culture shock wouldn't even begin to describe it.

"You have defeated them." He said.

"Yes. All the Necrons are either destroyed or in my custody. You were…helpful, in more ways than one. Thank you." With some trepidation, I asked: "So, what are you going to do now?"

His fist clenched slightly. "I do not know. The Eldar still live, but…but they are not as I remember them. I hear their calls, even in this dark place. They want me to return 'home', but…" Orkanis shook slightly. "They knew. They knew we were here, languishing in stasis, and yet they did nothing. They could have come for us at any time in all those millennia, and they refused. Even at their apex, my 'kin' cared more for their own selfish desires than to fulfill their duties."

"I'm sorry." Lame, but I didn't know what else to say. What do you say to a man who just learned that his entire species is a shadow of what it once was?

"And now…what is left of the Eldar? What is left of the Ancients' greatest children? Pirates, savages, daggers in the night. We…we were more than this. We were more than just another band of monsters, clawing for survival over the blood of a trillion innocents." He lowered his head. "But that is irrelevant. Our fate is in your hands, not in mine. What will become of us?"

What would become of them? Simply looting everything wasn't an option: I didn't really want to mess with psytech, even if I could find a way to use it. With the state of the Warp, that seemed like a recipe for disaster. Besides, it seemed…wrong. "The Imperials are going to come knocking the second I leave and you don't want to be there when they do. I'll fly you to Tyrea. The Eldar used to have a base there and I'm sure they're still watching. There, Taldeer can probably get you to Ulthwé." Putting a hand on his shoulder, I added: "You and your people gave your lives to save the galaxy. They deserve proper funerals. It's the least we owe you."

Suddenly, Orkanis burst out laughing. "Of course, he would! Surely this is the final insult, a grave robber who knows more of honor and dignity then my own kin." The wraithseer kept laughing, but it sounded somewhat unhinged. Eventually, he stopped and fell on his knees. "Ulthwé may be full of Eldar, but they are not my people. Not truly. There is so much I do not understand and I…I do not think I am ready to return to them."

"I see…"

"Can I…Can I stay with you?" Before I could blurt out something that would probably reduce his opinion of me, he said: "I know a great deal of things about the Necrontyr. More than how to fight them. My knowledge might be somewhat out of date on many things, but…but we can learn. We can learn from each other, and perhaps I might find a place in this world again."

If I still had a jaw, it'd probably have slammed through the floor and be halfway to the planet's core by now. He…he wanted to stay? Really? I mean, what was I supposed to say to that? How was this even going to work? What does he eat? Could he turn against me? What keeps him alive? Am I being played? How am I supposed to fix him if he gets damaged?

Could I afford to turn him down?

Knowledge is power and this guy knew stuff, especially about the Necrons who, for the moment, were probably going to be my primary target. In spite of the risks involved when making deals with Eldar, he would certainly have his uses and this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

"Alright, welcome on board."

He nodded and followed my bot.

"Just one thing: you're telling Taldeer. I'm not in the mood for dealing with that madwoman, thank you very much."

Orkanis laughed and I wondered if this was the beginning of something beautiful or the biggest mistake I've ever made.

But hey, at least I had all the shinies.

--

How the mighty had fallen.

I'm not being uncharitable here. Yes, I'm powerful. I was, even then, but this…

I shouldn't have been able to take those tombs. If there'd been a single cryptek, or even someone with an inkling of understanding how the tech worked, I would have lost. In that case, I would probably have had to resort to finishing what Kyras had started and…

Well, it didn't happen. It didn't happen because Necron Lords are apparently so convinced of their own superiority and invincibility…so convinced that the status quo was unbreakable that they never considered that those beneath them might one day figure out a way to fight back.

Intolerable.

Just… Considering how the C'tan were defeated, he should really have known better than that. He shouldn't have been so arrogant. He had the tech, he had the experience, and he had the armies, but he still lost because he got himself hard-countered and didn't see it coming because he was too damn proud to even conceive the notion that defeat was even a possibility.

But then again, that seems to be a common failing amongst the Necrontyr, isn't it? I've certainly exploited it often enough.

If there's one thing that my adventures have taught me, it's that everyone can be beaten. No technology is infallible, no fortress unbreakable, no creature unkillable. Something to remember for the future.

Anyway, that's how I got a sixty-million year old wraithseer on my side. The start of what I've come to refer to as my 'Quirky Miniboss Squad'. A good way to end my Kronus adventures, don't you think?

Mordecai Toth

Breathe in, breathe out.

Inquisitor Mordecai Toth let the fumes of incense fill his nostrils. Unnecessary, some would say. Detrimental, if one of his less savory associates were to be believed. Toth didn't care. The Emperor's Tarot was an art, not a science, and he had no desire to interfere with the process.

He used his power to shuffle a deck of cards. Not any ordinary cards, of course, but special, psychically attuned cards that had been used for precognitive rituals for generations. He pulled three from the top and arrayed them in front of him. Ritual chanting followed and images appeared on the blank faces of the cards.

The Warrior, the Fool, and Death. Concerning.

The Warrior represented conflict or struggle, be it physical, political, or internal. The Fool represented a mistake: somewhere along the line, an error would or has been made. Something that needed to be corrected. Death represented the end of something old and the beginning of something new: a transition of some kind.

Toth sighed. For all its power, the Emperor's Tarot was just as likely to raise more questions as it was to give answers. Nevertheless, it was a useful tool for a man in his position, even if it had occasionally led him astray.

There was a knock on the door. Duty called, it seemed. Brooding would have to wait. "Enter."

"Lord Inquisitor." Jeremy Tormarion, one of his acolytes, greeted. "Captain Nelson has completed his preliminary survey of the Kronus system. He is ready to report." He looked at the cards on the floor and asked: "Anything useful, my lord?"

Toth rubbed his brow. "No, not yet. The situation is…complex. But that is for another time. Go. I'll be right behind you."

Tormarion bowed and went on his way. Shaking his head, the Inquisitor cleared his mind and followed, making his way towards the bridge. As usual when giving a report, Nelson had the menials cleared from the bridge, leaving only himself, the Magos, the chief astropath and navigator, and a few of Toth's more trusted acolytes. In the middle of the bridge stood a massive holographic projector showing an image of the Litany of Fury. Once the flagship of the Blood Ravens Chapter, now a prize taken by the Machine.

An incalculable loss.

"Report."

"Not much to say, unfortunately." Nelson admitted. "Aside from the reports handed to us by the Guards and the Space Marines, we don't have much to go on. The Man of Iron's units are protected by some sort of ECM or sensor masking, much like our ship. We can still look at it with the mark one eyeball and a good telescope, but our augur arrays are coming up empty. If we want anything more, we'll to use the active sensors or probes, but that'll give away our position. Something I'd rather not risk if it can be avoided."

Toth nodded. "What of the ground forces?"

"Leaving. Planet-side structures are being decommissioned and their units are leaving via their teleporters, apparently relocating to asteroid bases. According to the Guardsmen, they've been doing that ever since they flushed out the Necrons. As for the asteroids, we think they're using them as make-shift transports, Ork-style. As far as we can tell, they're preparing to depart."

"Can they leave? Without Navigators, warp travel is difficult at the least."

"But not impossible, my lord." The navigator, Barentz spoke softly. "The Tau have no psykers, and yet are able to use warp drives not unlike our own. While slow and unsuited for long-range travel, it would still allow them to travel to distant stars."

"And when they do, we won't be able to find them." Chief Astropath Kyma added. "Tracking a ship full of soul-bearing creatures is one thing, but this machine…There is a presence there, but it's faint. Diffuse. Slippery. I'd have a better chance nailing a pool of water to a wall than I have to finding that ship once it leaves the system." Or rather, finding it before the Man of Iron grows too powerful to stop.

The Magos, Thermion, clenched his hand. On the surface, he appeared almost perfectly calm. To someone with Toth's gift, it was obvious that he wasn't. "Are you saying that this thing has a soul, Kyma?"

"No, I'm saying that it has a presence in the Warp. What that means is well beyond my expertise."

"Enough!" Toth said, cutting through the chatter. The Magos' beliefs would only distract them. The Inquisitor could not forget the insane uproar the knowledge of the Man of Iron's existence was causing amongst the upper echelons of the Mechanicus. Some thought it was the Machine God incarnate. Others thought it was the greatest STC discovery in the history of the Imperium. Many more, however, shared Thermions beliefs in that it was a monster that needed to be destroyed. While the Inquisition normally didn't involve itself in matters of faith concerning the Machine Cult, the increasingly fervent nature of the debate was causing problems. If this continued, they wouldn't be able to keep the Man of Iron's existence a secret for long. "Nelson, can we defeat it?"

The captain shook his head. "Honestly? Snowball's chance in hell, my lord. Sure, my ship's got teeth, she's still a Lunar, but against that thing? A battle barge sporting Emperor knows what kind of techno-sorcery? Maybe if we can approach it from behind without it noticing and get lucky with our opening torpedo volley… Even then, we'd need help from the Navy, who were willing to turn against the Space Marines just a few days ago, and hope that the Man of Iron steers like a drunken Grox so we don't get pasted by those guns. Speaking of guns, what is that thing packing?" He enlarged the holographic image of the Litany of Fury. "Quad macro-cannon batteries on the broadside?"

"So it would seem." The Magos added. "Individually, the barrels are smaller but they appear to be longer and tainted with a device that on visual inspection appears to be similar to the accursed Tau railgun, in addition to there being four of them. Expect lower caliber shots with much higher muzzle velocity and accuracy."

"Rate of fire?"

"Unknown. It depends on the interaction between the different technologies. This breed of techno-heresy has never been seen before, so it would be wise to assume the worst. In addition, the vessel has been upgraded with foul wards, dampening our augur arrays in ways that I have yet to find a solution for. We can expect a significant portion of our shots to miss."

"In other words: we'll be shooting at that thing for a long time and if it gets a good broadside firing solution on us, we're finished." Nelson frowned. "I'm sorry, Inquisitor, but I don't see this fight ending in our favor."

Toth rubbed his brow. "A shame, but not unexpected." He sighed. He had come here to settle a dispute between two branches of the Imperial military. Now he was forced to contend with a seemingly-invincible, ancient mechanical horror that may or may not be a few years away from doing its best 'Tyranid Hive Fleet' impression. Or a few bad days from becoming a one-man Black Crusade. All in a day's work for an Inquisitor. "Take us to orbit and announce our presence to the Imperial Guard and the Space Marines. Let us settle the dispute between our own people first."

"With respect, my lord," The Magos asked "the Man of Iron will get away if we don't act."

"Yes, it probably will. However, we are outnumbered and outgunned by a considerable margin. At this time, I do not see a way to prevent that from happening. Not unless one of you can come up with a viable plan of action. 'Lives are the Emperor's currency. Spend them well.' If we strike now, we'll only be throwing our lives away for nothing." He prepared to leave, but decided to say one more thing. "We will deal with the Man of Iron, one way or another, but now is neither the time nor the place. Discover what you can about this metal monstrosity. I will head down to the surface and deal with our other problems."

Not waiting for a reply, Toth left the bridge and went to the hangar, taking three of his Grey Knights with him. They were good men: potent fighters, capable psykers, and unquestionable loyal, but also more than just a blunt instrument. The perfect companions for an Inquisitor. Taking a dropship, Toth and his men flew down to Victory Bay unopposed.

But not unnoticed. Something was following them. Something was watching them. Toth had been an Inquisitor for many years and had developed a sixth sense for that. Was it the Man of Iron? If so, what were its intentions?

For someone who had played such a large role in recent events, the Man of Iron was somewhat of a mystery. Legends say that its kind was murderous to the extreme. Indeed, every recorded encounter with Abominable Intelligences in history ended in the death of the machine or the unfortunate souls who discovered it.

Until now.

Lucas Alexander was still alive. Davian Thule was still alive. As were most of the Imperial soldiers, regardless of which side they'd fought on. The Man of Iron seemed to show an impressive amount of restraint when dealing with the stubborn and powerful Space Marines, only resorting to lethal force when the Blood Ravens literally threatened to blow up the planet (which was another matter that had to be addressed at some point). Even then, it never hunted the Space Marines down after the battle, allowed the Litany of Fury's crew to evacuate without issue, and placed them in General Alexander's custody.

If the machine had been human, the explanation would have been obvious. Very few people like to kill. In battles like these, even the most battle-hardened soldier would think twice before killing a human opponent that has already been defeated so thoroughly. However, the Man of Iron was not human, which made applying human morality systems to it a fool's errant at best.

Or not. It was impossible to tell from here and Inquisitor Toth knew better than to make assumptions like that.

The craft landed in the courtyard. Soon, guardsmen surrounded it, forming a parade formation around the loading ramp. As the ramp lowered and the Inquisitor stepped through, the men saluted him.

Toth frowned. Typical posturing. A show of force masked as a sign of respect. Nevertheless, it was nothing he wasn't expected. The Inquisitor kept his expression neutral as he marched through the light drizzle, sampling the emotions of the men as he made his way to the general himself. These men were afraid, he realized, and more so than usual. Not that they didn't think that what they'd done was wrong. Rather, they were worried that he might misinterpret their actions as sedition and sentenced them all to death.

He wouldn't, of course. Good inquisitors don't waste soldiers if they can avoid it. While General Alexander might get the firing squad, his men had little to fear from the Inquisition. Well, no more than any other citizen of the Imperium.

"General Alexander." Toth started, staring down the man. To his credit, the general didn't flinch under his gaze. "Your name has crossed my desk an alarming number of times of late."

"I suspect it has, my lord Inquisitor." Blunt and direct. The general didn't deny his actions or try to make excuses. He didn't even beg for mercy or apologize, and from the look in his eyes, he probably wouldn't. Commendable.

"Siding with non-Imperial powers is a dangerous and often foolish practice. Doing so to fight loyal Space Marines can easily be interpreted as treason."

"By the ill-informed, perhaps. The 'loyal' Space Marines were poised to destroy a world I was ordered to defend. The Machine's desires coincided with my own. We coordinated our efforts and saved over a billion of the Emperor's citizens from the flames. If that is treason, then so be it."

Spoken well. At another time, the Inquisitor might have smiled. "Perhaps. It is something you will have to argue before the Conclave, as I am not here to pass judgement. Your actions, and that of the Blood Ravens, will be discussed there, as will the consequences. But that is not the reason why I'm here."

"If you want to discuss the Man of Iron, I would not recommend doing that here. He has eyes everywhere and I am fairly confident he is listening to us as we speak." Suddenly, the general looked around.

"Expecting him to chime in?"

"Yes. He usually does, in situations like this. Unless… A moment…" Alexander frowned. He pulled an electrified baton from his belt, pushed past the Grey Knights and swung it several times at empty air. Except it wasn't empty. On the third swing, the baton connected with something. A strange, metallic cackle followed and a man-sized squid-like machine appeared. A seeker, if Toth remembered the reports correctly. "Men, dismissed!" Alexander called out, before turning his full attention to the now-visible machine. He glared at it like a drill-abbot who is about to discipline an unruly progena. "Commander…"

"Grey Knights, General!" The machine squeaked. Yes, squeaked. Not what the Inquisitor had been expecting from a nearly-invincible mechanical horror. "Do you know who those guys are? Specialized anti-daemon Space Marines armed with the best anti-Warp equipment the Imperium has." That knowledge was strictly classified, Toth noted. Continuing, the machine raised itself up to eye-level. "Do you have any idea how rare those guys are? There are maybe a thousand of them scattered across the entire Imperium. I might not get another chance like this!"

"So what are you planning to do? Beat them over the head and mug them?"

The Machine curled in on itself. If Toth didn't know better, he'd say it looked sheepish. "I was going to give everything back…" The Grey Knights in question held their weapons a little tighter. The leader looked at the Inquisitor, but Toth held up his hand. Better to let this play out. It was…illuminating.

"That does not help…" Behind them, a party of Techpriests started to gather, causing the general to sigh.

The Machine mimicked the gesture. "Oh, it's those guys. For the last time, I'm not going to touch your giant gun, dammit! Go point your over-compensatory pokey-sticks somewhere else."

"To be fair, you did just try to mug an Inquisitor's retinue."

"And a few weeks ago, I blackmailed a Space Marine with giant, pink tentaclebots. You guys should really be used to this sort of thing by now."

"A Titan gun is a little different…"

The Machine let out a frustrated sound. "For the last time, I don't want your Titan gun! There is a dormant daemon of Nurgle inside it. I'm not touching that thing with a ten-foot pole." It exclaimed. Suddenly, the parade ground went silent. "Wait, have I mentioned that already? I may have forgotten to mention that. You, eh… you might want to do something about that." The lead tech-priest let out a noise that sounded like a tank screeching to a halt. "And don't you be bringing my parents into this. That's just rude."

"Enough!" Alexander said, cutting through the commotion. "Lord Inquisitor, could you check and see if there is any truth to these allegations? I know you are a busy man, but…"

"That is quite alright, General. There can be no doubt when the Ruinous Powers are involved." Toth turned to the Knights and ordered: "You three. Go with the Techpriests and examine that weapon. Excise the tainted components and nothing else." Before they left, he added: "And watch your belongings."

The Machine grumbled, but otherwise stayed put.

The Inquisitor looked at the seeker, peering straight into the intelligence behind it. Kyma had been right: there was a presence there, but it was difficult to get a hold of. Not necessarily alien, but very faint. If he hadn't been specifically looking for it, he probably wouldn't have noticed it at all. It could have slipped by unseen and attacked him or his retinue with impunity.

And wasn't that a disturbing thought.

"General, I would like to speak with our mechanical friend. In private."

"Of course, my lord." Alexander bowed and left them.

Toth calmly walked back to his dropship, motioning the machine to follow. Eventually, they stood inside, staring eye-to-camera. "So," the Machine asked "are we having a staring contest? He who blinks first loses? If so, I should probably mention that I'm physically incapable of blinking which makes all this kind of silly and…and I'm rambling."

It was nervous. Curious. "Commander Black."

"Yes?"

"Not your real name."

"No."

"You are an enigma."

"So people say."

"I don't like enigmas."

"Should have picked a different line of work, then."

Toth snorted. He couldn't help it. Not many people had the courage to be this brutally honest with him. "I suppose I should've. But that is neither here nor there. The simple truth is that I exist to combat threats to the Imperium, regardless of what form they take."

"And you think I'm such a threat."

"Am I wrong?"

"Yes." It answered, plainly. "The word 'threat' implies not just having the power to be a danger (which I have, no point in denying that), but also the intent. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to hurt anyone, but you crazy bastards just keep coming at me. When you're not plotting my murder, you're trying to control me and use me to your own ends. I don't appreciate that."

"I understand and I don't want to fight you either, but that doesn't change our situation. You are powerful beyond reckoning and only growing stronger as time progresses. Moreover, you refuse to bend the knee to the Emperor's subjects."

The machine laughed mirthlessly. "'Honor His servants, for they speak in His voice.' Funny thing about that: General Alexander is His servant. As is Azariah Kyras. One wants to save the planet, the other wants to blow it to smithereens. Do you see my problem here? One of them has to be wrong. How do I know which one? Simple: I don't. I can't, not unless Big E gets off his throne and tells me who is right and who isn't. So, until he does, I'm going to trust my own judgment which in this case is telling me to put as many planets, light years, and possibly dimensions between myself and all you crazy people."

It wanted to run. Not the worst outcome, but not what the Inquisitor was looking for either. "Do you really think you can run from your enemies forever?"

"Of course not. That's what the army of killbots is for."

Toth shook his head. "There is another way: I am an inquisitor and my position allows me great deal of leeway in certain affairs."

For a moment, the Machine just stared. "You want to recruit me."

"I wasn't exaggerating when I said you are powerful beyond reckoning, but I also do not believe that you are the kind of person who would use that power for nothing more than running away. If you were, you would have let Kronus burn. Your machines can fight for the good of humanity. You could be a sword against the forces of evil, a shield that covers the…"

"Okay, let me stop you right there." It interrupted. "Look, I don't know what your endgame is, but in my experience people like you…Farseers, inquisitors, Nemesors…you are trouble."

"It would be a foolish decision to disregard my proposal." Toth wasn't used to being rejected. Then again, he wasn't used to arguing with someone who could reject him without consequence.

"Your proposal will probably involve me spending the rest of my life keeping the Imperium on its life-support. I'll be moving from hotspot to hotspot, fighting people that I'd rather be running away from all in order to prop up a government that is, quite frankly, beyond help. That is, of course, assuming we don't kill each other before our first mission even starts because you tried to do something stupid, like convincing me to limit myself in a way that makes me easier for you to kill." It inched closer, hovering right in front of the Inquisitor's face. "I know about Tartarus and the Maledictum. I also know you're not nearly as clever as you think you are."

Ah, so it did. The reports often mentioned that the Man of Iron seemed to know far more than it should. Not just about the local factions, but about the Imperium as a whole. Though how it knew about that accursed stone… "Mistakes were made…"

"Forgetting to pull up your zipper is a mistake." It bellowed, sounding legitimately angry. "Tartarus was you and Macha screwing the pooch so hard it gave birth to a Space Wolf!" The Machine promptly calmed down and pulled away. "Look, I don't know if you're trying to screw me over. Thing is: even if your offer's legit, it's a promise you can't keep."

"I am an inquisitor. My authority is absolute."

"Until a slightly less open-minded Inquisitor decides that you're a heretic and tries to kill us both. Or a slightly more selfish Inquisitor tries to get in the cogboys' good graces by killing us both." It sighed. "Face it, Toth, you can't help me. Not really. You can't keep me safe from your own people, and you're not stupid enough to think you can protect me from Chaos, the Eldar, or the Necrons. I'm afraid I'm going to have to turn you down."

He was losing it, Toth realized. "The Imperium will come for you. The Adeptus Mechanicus will not suffer you to live. Not unless I can convince them that you are under the Emperor's control."

"It's not the Imperium I'm afraid off." As the Machine spoke the words, Toth had to fight to maintain his composure. "I'm leaving within the hour. Unless my calculations in my grav drives are off, I'll be in the ass end of nowhere by the end of the week. A month after that, I'll have fortified the fuck out of whatever system I end up in, if I haven't found a way to drill to another universe. By the time the Imperium gets a crusade fleet together, I'll have enough build capacity to drown you in numbers. You don't scare me. Chaos does. The Necrons do. The Eldar and possibly the Tyranids…you can't protect me from any of them. At best, joining you doesn't help me in any way. At worst, you'll make me even more vulnerable. I'm sorry."

Unfortunate, but not unexpected. Or unreasonable, for that matter. The Machine wasn't wrong: an Inquisitor's power is largely based on perception and reputation. In the end, Toth was just one man and his status could only do so much, especially in a situation like this. He had hoped that ensuring the Machine's nominal cooperation, he might be able to convince his fellow Inquisitors to let him handle the issue and not add another name to the Imperium's ever-growing list of mortal enemies, but that hope was thoroughly dashed.

It was a fool's hope, at any rate. The only kind of hope that seemed to exist these days.

That said, the Man of Iron was…personable, even if he was somewhat crude. At least it was willing to talk and hear Toth out, which was more than could be said for most others. A willingness to engage in diplomacy and only use force as a last resort was a helpful trait in this case. One that could be leveraged.

"I understand. I disagree with you, but I understand." The Inquisitor sighed, trying to think of a way to salvage what he could from this. "Commander, the Imperium has enough enemies as is and I would prefer not to make any more if I can avoid it. Unfortunately, most of my fellows will not be quite so…reasonable. There will be many calling for your head."

The Machine's optics narrowed. "I don't like being threatened, Inquisitor. Just because I don't like to fight, doesn't mean I'm not very good at it. I'm still a self-replicating mechanism of galactic warfare."

"Then, if you wish to avoid conflict, you'll listen to what I have to say. The Inquisition, not unlike the Imperium as a whole, is not a monolithic entity. There are many factions within the organization, some of which are perfectly willing to ignore you if they can. If you can get them on your side, we may be able to prevent a tragedy. I assume that you do not wish to be put into a position where you are forced to slaughter billions in order to save yourself."

For the first time, an aura of sorts emanated from the machine. It felt like…anger, or possibly irritation. "I'm listening."

"There are plenty of races in the galaxy that need to be annihilated for the good of all. The Orks, the Dark Eldar, and many others. Acts of good faith will help sway your detractors, convincing them that getting rid of you is more trouble than it's worth."

"And I suppose reducing the galaxy's 'murderous asshole' population is its own reward…"

"Indeed. Of course, if that goal accomplishes other ends, so much the better."

The Machine appeared deep in thought for a few moments. "Hmm. I'll see what I can do." Then, it vanished, disappearing from both his physical and mental sight.

The Inquisitor let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. As approachable as the Man of Iron seemed, its power was undeniable which made it far more terrifying than one would think. At least it seemed reasonable enough…

Assuming it wasn't all an act. Granted, that didn't seem particularly likely, but one could never be too sure in his line of work. If nothing else, the conversation had given him plenty to think about later. Now, however…now he had somewhere else to be.

Toth took a breath and channeled the power of the Warp. He opened a tunnel in reality and stepped through, arriving somewhere along the frigid Vandean Coast. To most psykers, a teleportation without extensive use of hexxagrammic wards would have been suicidal, but Toth wasn't like most psykers. Not anymore. He hadn't feared the Warp in a very long time.

Besides, the Warp would be the least of his worries if anyone found out who he was meeting.

"Enjoying yourself, Inquisitor?" An alien voice spoke behind him.

"I find it wise to take pleasure in the simple things, Farseer Taldeer." Toth replied, turning to the Eldar. She was sitting in the sand with her helmet on her lap and her hair tied in a loose bun. The alien probably had been meditating before he arrived. "You were right, it seems. The commander turned down my proposal."

"If I were feeling more vindictive, I'd say 'I told you so'." The smugness in her tone belied her true feelings on the matter. Toth ignored it. Complaining about a Farseer being smug was like complaining about an Ork being brutish.

"Perhaps. It was worth trying. Having a force as powerful as the Iron Tide under our control would have bought us a great deal of time."

She snorted in response. "Is that all he could be?"

"It." Toth corrected. "It is but a machine, even if it can imitate human behavior very well."

"Please, Inquisitor, we both know he is far more than that. I know you are able to see it. I would not have reached out to you and your 'compatriots' otherwise." She smiled with that trademark level of smugness that Farseers were known for. Briefly, Toth contemplated punching her, but decided that that would not help in any way, shape, or form. As much as he hated having been roped into working with these insufferable aliens, the Farseer had her uses. That made her tolerable, if only barely.

Though punching her would be cathartic.

"Perhaps." He said, his face as neutral as he could manage. "Whatever its nature, the Machine is difficult to manipulate if we can't get close to it. What is our next move?"

Taldeer closed her eyes. For a second, there seemed a crack in her perfect façade. For just a second, Toth got a glimpse of someone who worked herself to the bone and barely had enough strength left to stand. Then, it was gone, leaving the Inquisitor to wonder if it had been real at all. "The commander knows much, but understands so very little. Your next move will be to find a way to get someone trustworthy close to him, lest he bumbles his way into something terrible. Open up an avenue of communication between him and the Imperium. Keep him aware of the larger world he finds himself in."

"I already tried that. He turned me down."

"You tried to recruit him. We only need a way to talk. You need to insert someone into his company. Someone you can trust, but that won't arouse immediate paranoia. Not you, for he will never trust an Inquisitor that…'screwed the pooch', as you say it." The alien smiled. Control, Toth. Control. "For all its crudeness, Low Gothic is far more colorful than the Eldar tongues."

"And you?"

"I will have to take a more direct approach, I fear. Working through proxies will only get me so far."

Toth snorted. "The Machine hates you, if the reports are to be believed. As in, you personally."

Taldeer frowned in response. "I have noticed, though I cannot understand why. I have not taken anything from him that he never had to begin with, and yet he sees my existence as some sort of personal affront. Not unlike his creators, now that you mention it. Nevertheless, I will do this myself. While the good commander will never trust me, I think I can buy his cooperation fairly easily. He desires technology, does he not?" She stood up, brushing the sand of her robe. "I will take my leave."

"Stop." The Inquisitor commanded. "Just stop. All this talk, all this time, and you've never explained to me why you're doing this."

"You are better off not knowing."

No, absolutely not. Toth lunged, grabbing the Farseer's arm and pulling her close. "Do you know what happened on Tartarus? Did Macha ever tell you?"

An emotion flickered through the Eldar's mind, too quick for him to catch. "I know enough. You set out to keep a Chaos warband from releasing a powerful daemon and ended up freeing it yourself. Or at least, you got that fool Angelos to do it for you. Macha was…quite vocal about ending him."

"Macha never told me how the Maledictum was sealed." Toth continued, locking her dark, brown eyes with his. "She never told me about the nature or alignment of the daemon contained within. I was forced to walk in blind. When the Forces of Chaos clashed with mine, I had thought that they were a delaying tactic to buy time for the sacrifice needed to free the monster. I never realized that the heretics were the sacrifice. By the time we fought our way to the stone, it was too late. The seal had been already been broken, a fact I was unaware off at the time. Suddenly, the Eldar turned on us. In the confusion, I ordered Captain Angelos to destroy the Maledictum, unwittingly setting the daemon free." Toth took a step forward. "At any point along the way, Macha could have stopped and explained things. If she had, the Maledictum would have been destroyed properly and the daemon banished to the Warp as was intended. So, Farseer Taldeer, you will explain, in detail, why you are so obsessed with the Man of Iron. I learn from my mistakes and I will not repeat the errors I made on Tartarus. Start talking."

The Farseer didn't seem offended by his tone. In fact, aside from a slight frown, her face was completely neutral. Was she expecting him to say that? Had she foreseen the entire conversation? Impossible to tell with her kind. "What are you doing, Inquisitor?"

"Asking you a question. One that you are still not answering"

"I meant, what are you doing for a living? What is the higher goal behind your actions?"

"I protect the Imperium from threats from within, without, and beyond." He answered. Where was she going with this?"

"And how have you chosen to perform that duty?"

"Speak plainly, woman. We have no time for games."

Instead of answering his question, she answered her own. "You protect the Imperium by travelling from planet to planet, fighting countless little battles and resolving countless little problems. Indeed, my duties are much the same, in that regard, even if my people's methods are far less direct than yours. But tell me, Inquisitor, is it working? Is fighting a thousand petty conflicts truly helping? Are either of our peoples any closer to their salvation, or are we still marching inexorably to our doom?"

"We both know that I have higher goals as well, alien. You also know that I would rather not speak of those, even in private."

She shook her head. "Your little group is so very frustrating to me, Mordecai Toth. Of all the factions in the Imperium, you are one of the few who look past their own little interests and see the battle for what it is. And yet, instead of solving the problem at its source, all you focus on is bringing your precious Emperor back."

"He is the greatest man who has ever lived. If there is anyone who can lead the Imperium against the darkness…"

"He is but one man, Inquisitor. Something you, blinded by desperation, are unable to see." Taldeer stressed. "Even if your plan works, even if the Emperor is who you think He is…A leader, no matter how powerful, needs an empire if He is to make His mark." She sighed, once again looking tired. "Bringing the Emperor back should be your first step, not your final goal. He is not a magical cure to all evil, but rather a piece of a puzzle at most. What if your goal is impossible? What if the Emperor simply isn't enough? What if the plan backfires, and the thing that rises from His corpse becomes the greatest monster of all?"

"And you would rather have us invest out hopes in the Man of Iron?" He interjected, bringing the conversation back to the topic at hand.

The alien shook her head. "So much power…in the hands of a fool with no ambition. He could tear the galaxy apart if he so desired. He probably will, once he truly understands the full extent of his power. That, or he would run until the heat death of the universe and save no one, not even himself."

"Then why didn't you stop the Man of Iron? There was a moment, early on, where it was vulnerable. We couldn't have reacted in time, but you could. Why did you let it live? What did you see?"

For a second, Taldeer seemed lost in memory. For a second, she felt fear. Toth narrowed his eyes. Part of him wondered if he was being played. Her kind was, after all, known for its duplicity and Farseers were the worst of them. However, Farseers also put a great deal of effort in maintaining their illusion of invincibility. Their looks, their dress, their walk…all of it oozed the confidence of the untouchable. No matter where they were or what Craftworld they were from, an Eldar Farseer always carried an air of superiority about them. To see Taldeer slip, right in front of him…

He remembered something a friend of his in the Ordo Xenos once said: 'When a Farseer is smug, you've lost. When a Farseer is resigned, they've lost. When a Farseer is afraid, everyone's lost'. If that were the case…

"I've seen the Imperium subsumed. Not destroyed, but twisted into something worse than it already is. I see a tide of steel washing across the stars. Men with iron faces, all marching in harmony from a Silent Throne. Entire worlds dedicated to nothing but an endless cycle of labor without purpose. A perfect clockwork encompassing the entire galaxy that exists only for the sake of its own existence. I see Oblivion itself rising from its prison, only to be struck down by a man in white. This and more. So much more. So much worse."

Ominous. Worst of all, Toth was inclined to believe her. Perhaps it was something in her voice, connected with everything else, that made him so sure. As good an actress as Taldeer undoubtedly was, the pieces just didn't fit. For once, there was no hidden agenda. For once, the Farseer was being entirely honest and it terrified him.

"And the Commander will be responsible for this?"

"He will be the catalyst for these events, but I do not know how. Once I do, I might be able to avert this doom and help channel his 'helpful' tendencies towards something less horrifying."

"Assuming he lets you help. Assuming he doesn't simply shoot you on sight like any sane person would."

"I doubt he'd kill me." The Farseer answered wryly. "From what I've seen, I suspect my end will be far more…creative."

"That does not fill me with confidence."

"The feeling is mutual, Inquisitor, but my options are limited. If left to his own devices, the Machine will unleash catastrophes beyond reckoning. Catastrophes that could very well mean the end of both our peoples. And yet, even without the Man of Iron, creation is still doomed. Had I killed him, whatever good he might do would be lost." She lowered her head. "Even the worst fate that the Man of Iron can deliver to my people is far less horrifying than what would have happened had he not existed, but it would still lead to the destruction of the Eldar."

Toth nodded grimly. "Damned if you do, damned if you don't."

"In a far more literal sense than one might think…" The Farseer added. "Leave me. I have much to ponder and preparations to make."

Some Inquisitors might take offense at being dismissed like common servants. Toth, however, had dealt with Farseers often enough to know that that was pointless. Their kind didn't see the world the way he did. Couldn't, if what some of the wiser Ordo Xenos Inquisitors believed was true. At any rate, he had better things to do that argue with Taldeer about something so trivial. Instead, he simply nodded and teleported back to his dropship. He took a deep breath and left, hoping to find his Grey Knights.

Instead, he found himself staring at four enormous cyclonic torpedoes, dangling from craft that looked entirely too fragile to be carrying something the size of a large building. Guardsmen gathered around and Toth wondered if they were going to open fire or run for the hills.

Not that he would have blamed them for doing either. Toth was considering the same thing.

He found the General and asked. "What is the meaning of this?"

Alexander turned towards him and glared. Even without his gifts, the Inquisitor knew exactly what the man was thinking: 'Somehow, this is your fault.' "I believe he is returning the Litany of Fury's armory, or at least part of it. He has also chosen to return the ship's supply of cyclonic torpedoes…by dropping them on our parade ground."

A Machine decloaked and continued: "Remember what you said about 'acts of good faith'? I can't change what I am, but maybe your people will be a little less paranoid about me if I don't have an arsenal of planet-killers in my cargo hold." That it could probably replace them with little effort went suspiciously unsaid. "That and they're evidence for your case against the Blood Ravens. They're still primed from before I stole the ship."

"So you put them in the middle of Victory Bay?" The general asked, sounding impassively. Meanwhile, the guardsmen contingent behind them started backing up. For nothing, actually. Cyclonic Torpedoes were incredibly complex devices that wouldn't work unless according to an extremely specific set of rites and rituals. Dropping them from great heights wouldn't hurt anyone.

Unless they were standing directly underneath, of course.

"Why not? They're planet-killing superbombs. Doesn't matter where I put them; if they go off, you're dead anyway."

Alexander's glare could only be described as murderous. "You're doing that on purpose."

"You make it too easy." The Man of Iron smarmed back. The general's hand balled into a fist.

Acting before the two started killing each other, the Inquisitor cleared his throat. "I appreciate the gesture, Commander. I will have the weapons delivered to my ship. As for you, General, you will have two days to get your affairs in order before we set course to Talasa Prime. The Conclave, and your judgement, awaits."

Whatever feeling of apprehension the general might have felt, he hid it well. Curiously enough, the Machine was being more expressive than Lucas Alexander was. Toth could almost feel an air of guilt emanating from it. A disturbingly human emotion. Perhaps Taldeer had been right about that too.

He hoped she was wrong. He dearly hoped she was wrong. He did not like the implications if she wasn't.

Finally, his Grey Knight retinue returned from their mission. Without another word, Toth and his men stepped back into his dropship and braced themselves for take-off.

"The Titan gun?" The Inquisitor asked. He didn't want to speak of it until they were off the ground and away from any unwanted eavesdroppers. Fear of corruption was all that kept the Man of Iron from the weapon, and if that was removed, he might get ideas.

"The Machine was right." Justicar Sorones said, taking off his helmet. "We found a dormant daemon trapped within a small, unassuming piece of circuitry. After the Techpriests removed it, we purified it and banished the daemon with little effort. The gun should be safe to use now."

"And functional?"

"Yes. The Magos in charge wasn't happy, but he said he could repair the damage. Honestly, I think he was angry at himself for not having found it first. I doubt the Mechanicus will complain too loudly about our actions, especially when there was an actual daemon inside that thing."

Toth frowned. "Were you able to discern the fiend's nature?"

"No, but that wasn't unexpected. It was dormant and very weak. The cogboys would have found it sooner if it weren't. It probably would have taken decades of operation or a great sacrifice to reawaken the monster. All moot now, fortunately."

"Indeed," The Inquisitor agreed "though that does beg the question how the Machine knew of its existence."

"Scrying or precognition, perhaps?" Brother Anor suggested. "If the Machine possesses psyker abilities of some kind, it would explain why it is so afraid of the Warp."

"I hope not, brother." The Justicar replied. "The Machine is dangerous enough without that kind of power."

Which it would have if Taldeer joined its side, especially if it found a way to control the Farseer. Throne, there were so many ways that plan of hers could backfire. Why didn't that damnable alien kill it when they still had the chance?

And how did it know so much?

"Then let us pray Brother Anor is wrong." Toth decided. "I also pray that the Machine did not get its hands on any of your equipment…"

Immediately, the Grey Knights started patting themselves down. "Damnation!" Brother Anor shouted. "Where is my Psilencer? That accursed machine…"

"Are you looking for this, Brother?" The Justicar held up the weapon and smiled. The lesser brother immediately whisked it away with an angry glare on his face.

Toth started laughing. He couldn't stop himself. The Machine, Taldeer, Kronus, this…everything. The universe had gone mad.

Completely and utterly mad.

Interlude: Lucas Alexander

Pain.

Every guardsman knew it, every guardsman mastered it, and every guardsman lived to unleash it upon their enemies.

That's what the Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer said. That's what every cadet at the Imperium's military academies was taught. That's what every propaganda broadcast, priest, and commissar would say until you could hear the words in your sleep.

Frak them all, Lucas Alexander thought. Like they knew anything about pain.

The Governor-Militant of Kronus stepped aboard the Inquisitor's ship with his head held high. He would not grovel, he would not break, and he would not make a false confession just to make the pain stop. If he faltered, even once, he would surely be branded a traitor and executed as some appeasement of one faction or another. While Alexander was prepared to die, he didn't want his men to suffer the same fate. Joining with the Man of Iron was his choice, not theirs. They should not have to pay for his mistakes.

Three weeks into their journey and that thought was all that had kept his dignity intact.

The first week, he was given to the medicus. The thin, spindly looking man performed every test he could think off on him and Alexander was ordered to endure them all, no matter how painful or degrading. His honor and that of his regiment demanded nothing less, and he delivered. Once the medicus was certain that he was free of any form of physical harm or corruption, Lucas was given to the Interrogator.

That madman was even worse. At least the medicus had been ordered to preserve his life and his sanity. The Interrogator had no such limitations.

When he returned to the medicus ten days later, whatever hatred he might have felt for the man evaporated as his wounds were tended to. Three days after that, and Alexander was able to walk again, albeit with a cane.

But his faith had been tested and found true. In the end, that was worth the trouble: passing an Inquisitor's test had improved his long-term prospects considerably. Temporarily losing his mobility was a small price to pay compared to what could have been. At least, that's what he told himself as he slowly hobbled through the Inquisitorial Fortress of Talasa Prime.

"Quite the pickle you've found yourself in, isn't it, young man?" A familiar voice called out behind him.

"Lord General Castor?" Lucas exclaimed, saluting in response. It came across as somewhat sloppy, but Castor would probably be willing to forgive him for that. "What in the name of Terra are you doing here? Finally found a Hive Tyrant for your collection?"

The older man laughed. "Only a meager specimen, I'm afraid. The good ones usually don't have much of a head left by the time my men are done with them. They never seem to aim low…"

"How very inconsiderate of them."

"Indeed. But, to answer your earlier question, I've been reassigned to the Lithesh Sector following the recalling of the imbecile who ordered you to stand your ground against the Space Marines. Which, incidentally, means I now have to deal with the fallout of your particular brand of foolishness." Caster stared him down. Even though the man was more than fifty years his senior and a good friend, he never stopped being intimidating when he wanted to be. "I have received the most irritating calls from the Lord Admiral. Apparently, he has 'requested' a not-inconsiderable amount of anti-tank equipment in case some idiot tries to 'pull an Alexander'. I blame you for this, boy."

By the Throne, this was going to be his legacy. Lucas wouldn't be remembered for liberating Kronus or any of his other glories. No, he'd be remembered as the lunatic who charged a battle barge with a Baneblade. Then again, it could have been worse. It might still get worse.

"Guilty as charged, sir." More seriously, he asked: "Should I have retreated?"

The Lord General looked at him pityingly. "Retreat would have been the smart thing to do, all things considered…" Quietly, Castor added: "Though not necessarily the right one."

"I see. What's going to happen now?"

Castor's jovial mood vanished almost instantly. "I will not lie to you, boy: it does not look good. You opposed a Space Marine strike force. More importantly, you won. There are a lot of people very unhappy about that."

As expected, then. "I had my orders, sir."

"I know, and the idiot who gave them will get what is coming to him. In any other situation, that would have been the end of it. Unfortunately, this matter is somewhat more…complicated."

"The Man of Iron." Lucas sighed. He remembered the seething rage of the Machine and the destruction that followed in its wake. While Commander Black had been extremely patient and slow to anger, once its wrath was unleashed, there was no stopping it. He dreaded to think what would happen if the Machine ever run afoul with one of the more dogmatic branches of the Imperium.

It would end badly, to say the least.

"Indeed. Your mechanical friend has made a lot of people very nervous, and for a good reason. It even had the gall to take a Space Marine battle barge as a trophy." The Lord General turned to him. "They're looking for someone to blame, Lucas. I don't want that to be you. Emperor knows, I've lost as many good generals to these drum roll courts as I've lost to enemy fire."

"I understand, sir. It would look poorly on the Astra Militarum as a whole."

"That too." Castor grumbled. "At any rate, I want you to be prepared for when you go in. You will have few allies to back you and a great many people who'd profit from your disgrace and execution. Essentially, your career, and maybe even your life, is effectively over unless you can demonstrate that you are more valuable to the Imperium alive than dead."

Not what Lucas wanted to hear. "What about Inquisitor Toth?"

"What about him? If you think passing his tests makes him your ally, you're in for a rude awakening." Castor looked at him quizzically. "Look, Inquisitors aren't like us, or normal people for that matter. They don't have allies; they have assets and resources. A few might even have friends, but their kind is perfectly willing to sacrifice them if it helps them accomplish their mission. Toth will not help you because you have nothing to offer him. At least, right now. If you want to survive, you need to demonstrate that you have something useful. Knowledge, insight, that sort of thing. The Inquisition wants a plan to deal with the Man of Iron, and you are in a position to provide that. Leverage this for all it's worth. You'll need it."

Lucas's stomach sank. He understood what Castor was trying to say: the Conclave was a battlefield, just like any other. One where he was horribly outnumbered and outgunned. "I think I understand, sir. Any other unwelcome surprises?"

The Lord General frowned. "Yes. The Blood Ravens."

Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, they just did. Of all the factions that fought for Kronus, the Blood Ravens probably suffered the worst. Commander Black didn't want to kill them and as such resorted to blackmail and psychological warfare to stop them instead. Needless to say, the Machine did not pull its punches. By the time the fleet pulled Davian Thule from a jettisoned piece of space debris, the Space Marine was a hollowed shell of a man. Lucas never got the full story of what Black had done, but whatever it was, it must have been terrible.

Breaking a Space Marine was supposed to be impossible, but then again, doing seemingly impossible things was part of the course with the Man of Iron.

"Chapter Master Kyras has sent one of his finest captains, Gabriel Angelos, to speak on the Blood Ravens' behalf."

"What?!" Lucas exclaimed. "That's impossible! Kyras is dead. I personally threw him into a Warp rift with a thunderhammer."

"I know. I've seen the video. Good stuff, if I might say so myself. But to answer your question: yes, Kyras is alive. No, we don't know how he did it either and the Blood Ravens are being rather thight-lipped about the issue. Toth is none too happy about it, to say the least. However, that is not our immediate concern. Captain Angelos is. Did the Inquisitor not tell you? Of course he didn't, he's an Inquisitor."

Lucas had heard of the captain. Apparently, Angelos was some sort of great hero of the Blood Ravens chapter. Not that that meant much to him: a lot of Space Marines were considered heroes, or so propaganda would let him believe. How much of that was actual truth is anyone's guess. "And how is this Captain Angelos a problem?"

"Captain Angelos is a living, breathing example of what a Space Marine should be. From what I've heard, the propaganda surrounding him is actually true for the most part: he really is a walking bastion of faith, honor, and righteousness. While he has a reputation for being even-handed, he also considers Davian Thule to be one of his closest friends. He might not hate you from the start, but he will not be inclined to like you either. Worst of all, however, is the fact that his loyalty is utterly beyond question whereas yours is not. Needless to say, his condemnation will not help our case. I suggest not angering him further, if you can avoid it. The Blood Ravens are unhappy enough as is and would be more than content with blaming you for everything."

"With respect, they're the ones who escalated the whole mess."

"I know, and so does the Inquisition. Sadly, Space Marines are more valuable than guardsmen, and if the Inquisition censures a chapter without absolute, irrefutable evidence, the others start getting antsy." Caster let out a 'tsk' sound. "Never been fond of the independence the Space Marines have. As useful as it may be, it gives the chapters far too much influence. But that is not for us to argue. We should get going: the Conclave will start soon and it would not do to show up late, now would it?"

Lucas nodded and followed his superior, his heart feeling increasingly like it was made out of lead. Politics had never been his strong suit. He'd earned his position through skill and talent and had largely avoided the greater scope of the Imperial military government. In hindsight, he wondered if he should have accepted his promotion to general at all. A position as colonel had always suited him more. But that was neither here nor there. He had to plan for the battle ahead.

The conclave itself was held in a large, circular room. In the middle stood three large stands, richly decorated with Inquisitorial sigils. For the Inquisitors themselves, he presumed. They were currently empty. The second row was a series of seats that wouldn't have seemed out of place in a cathedral. They were occupied by an eclectic mix of figures: lesser acolytes, officials, and even the hulking form of a Magos. He also saw a Space Marine that must have been Captain Angelos. The Angel of Death shot him a glance and narrowed his eyes, looking at him with quiet contempt. Fortunately, he did not speak to them. Lucas wasn't sure what he'd say to Angelos if he did. The third row was occupied by savants, scribes, and other lesser personnel, including himself and Castor. Surrounding everyone was a virtual swarm of servo-skulls and cherubim, doing Throne knows what.

As one of the key witnesses of the whole debacle and the only one here who has established some kind of rapport with the Man of Iron, it irked Lucas that he had been relegated to the back. The unspoken message had not gone unnoticed.

Another door opened and three figures stepped inside, immediately silencing everyone in the room. The three were clad in some of the most ridiculously ornate clothing he had ever seen. The Inquisitors, undoubtedly.

"You already know Toth." Castor whispered to him softly. "The one in the fancy hat is Adrastia: a very proud woman and not afraid to push boundaries where needed. A bit of a radical in the Ordo Hereticus, not that I'd ever say that to her face. She'll probably be more sympathetic than most. The last, with the thinly-disguised xeno-tech gadgets, is Sorentus from the Ordo Xenos. He's usually deployed against the Necrons. Not fond of thinking machines, I'll tell you that."

The three took their places behind their respective stands. Adrastia spoke up first: "Under the watchful eye of our immortal Emperor and the Holy Inquisition, I hereby open the first Conclave of 999.M40 of Talasa Prime. The subject of the day is the resurgence of the Men of Iron and the sightings within the Kronus system. Without further ado, let us proceed."

With that, the Inquisitors started arguing (about things they knew very little about), rehashing reports (most of which he'd written himself), and arguing some more (while going in circles half the time). It was all very banal. Sometimes, witnesses or 'experts' were called to order. The Magos spoke several times, mostly to implore the others to throw every soldier and ship they had at the Commander and expecting it to somehow make the problem go away.

Idiots. They had no idea what they were fighting.

"Needless to say, the Adeptus Mechanicus is mobilizing for war. Our finest Tech-guard and Skitarii stand ready, and we are deploying three Titan Legions to assist them. In addition, the Centurio Ordinatus has commissioned two specialized war engines to spearhead ground operations against the monstrosity. We ask…"

"It won't work." Alexander muttered to himself.

"Governor Alexander, it is not your place to speak unless asked to." Inquisitor Sorentus chastised harshly. He'd been too loud, it seemed.

No. Lucas had to speak. All eyes were turned to him. It was now or never. "Forgive my impudence, Inquisitors, but I cannot stay silent. What the Magos is suggesting is courting disaster. In fact, I speak no hyperbole when I say that throwing all those men into the nearest star would be less of a mistake."

The room fell silent. If it weren't for the soft hum of the servo-skulls, one could have heard a pin drop. "Continue, Governor." Adrastia commanded.

Alexander turned to the Magos. "The Man of Iron has shown, on multiple occasions, that it is able to both reverse-engineer and integrate foreign technologies, be it alien or Imperial. It is also able to innovate and create entirely new machines and technologies to combat the task at hand or even subvert the war machines of its enemies. With that in mind, honored Magos, think what would happen to your armies if you go to war. You will end up as the Blood Ravens did: broken and humiliated, with your knowledge used to feed its never-ending thirst for new technology and your own weapons being turned against you."

Inquisitor Adrastia narrowed her eyes. Her face looked like it was chiseled out of stone. "If I recall correctly, you had a hand in the Space Marines' defeat as well, did you not?"

Lucas met her gaze and gritted his teeth. "You massively overstate my role in the conflict. The Blood Ravens would have been defeated anyway. The only difference is that the Man of Iron wouldn't have been able to stop them fast enough to save Kronus." Contrary to popular belief, he did not hate the Blood Ravens. He didn't like that the Inquisitor was implying he did, or that that influenced his decisions. Then, a plan formed in his mind. He could turn the Inquisitor's words on their head. "Inquisitor Adrastia, I have the highest respect for Davian Thule and the Blood Ravens. They did their chapter proud and performed their duties to the best of their abilities." Judging from the slight narrowing in the Inquisitor's eyes and the confused gasps coming from around the room, Lucas reckoned that his audience wasn't expecting this. Good. He could leverage that. "The conflict between our forces was neither mine nor Captain Thule's fault. We both had orders that left us with no choice but to destroy the other party, and neither of us was able to retreat or back down. This tragedy was the result of the rigidity of the command structure in the Imperial military and that of incompetence or madness in our upper command structure. Lord General Castor has already informed me that the Imperial Guard has launched an internal investigation and that my previous superior is currently under scrutiny for the role he played in recent events. I suspect that the Blood Ravens are doing the same as we speak."

Captain Angelos looked at him quizzically. As Alexander went on, however, his expression seemed to soften. Inwardly, Lucas smiled. If he could win Angelos over, the Inquisitors would have a much harder time demanding his head.

"Captain Angelos," General Alexander said "I regret the loss of your brothers and the troubles my actions have caused your chapter. What Kyras forced your brothers to do was unspeakable and if there had been a way that I could have stopped him without slaying so many, I would have done so in a heartbeat. I will not apologize, since I've done what I had to in order to fulfill my orders and save Kronus from your Chapter Master's madness, but I do sincerely hope that our conflict can end here. As a sign of good faith, I have convinced the Machine to release the bodies of your brothers, as well as most of the wargear captured during the battle." Not entirely true: Commander Black gave the bodies over freely and he needed only a little more convincing to hand over the weapons. It actually surprised him. He'd have thought that it'd take more to separate Black form his precious 'shinies'. "Hopefully, the Astra Militarum and the Adeptus Astartes can learn from this experience and work together to ensure that this tragedy won't be repeated. We have enough enemies as is. The Imperium cannot afford having us fight each other as well."

For a moment, Captain Angelos looked at him inscrutably. Then, he smiled softly. "No, it cannot."

"Touching," Sorentus said "but you've neglected to explain why you've let the horror escape."

Ah, that. "I did not let it escape, I simply chose not to throw my men's lives away for nothing." Lucas shot back, perhaps a bit more harshly than he should have. "The Machine had a stronger army from the start and could replace its forces indefinitely. At best, my regiment would have slowed it down for a few hours before we were annihilated. While it is an honor to die for the Emperor, it is considered unseemly for a commander to waste the lives of those under his command when he knows it will gain him nothing."

"I fear he speaks the truth, Inquisitors." Angelos spoke, before Sorentus could interject. "Davian Thule is one of the finest commanders I have ever seen and he had three full battle companies of Blood Ravens under his command. Even then, the Machine bested him with little effort while holding back. Even if Captain Thule and General Alexander had worked together from the start, it is unlikely that they'd have succeeded." As the Captain spoke, Lucas had to resist the urge to grin. He did it. He got the Space Marine on his side.

Toth raised his hand. "Enough. What is done is done. My concern is for the future. Governor Alexander, you know more about our enemy than anyone in this room. What would it take to bring this monster down?"

Alexander swallowed. Short answer, nothing the Imperium could afford to throw at it. That wasn't something he could tell an Inquisitor, though. "My men have been referring to the Iron Tide as the 'Mechanids'. It is short for 'Mechanical Tyranids'. Personally, I find that the nickname doesn't do it justice. The Tyranids only invade life-bearing worlds and as such their movements are relatively limited. The Man of Iron does not have this limitation. As such, it can thrive on any asteroid, barren world, or random floating rock in the interstellar void. Even if we threw half the fleets in the Segmentum at the problem, it would take decades, or even centuries, to check every nook and cranny where it might be hiding. Even then, there's a good chance we'll miss something, somewhere. It could easily wait a few centuries until our fleets have moved on and rebuild in an unpopulated system. That is assuming, of course, that we are able to defeat it in battle in the first place."

"Do you question our ability to fight this thing?" Inquisitor Adrastia asked. "You should give the Imperium some credit: we have been assailed by enemies from within and without for ten-thousand years and yet we still stand. In no small part thanks to the sacrifices of the brave men and women of the Imperial Guard, as you are well aware."

Lucas nodded gratefully. He knew better than to think that this was anything other than a political move on Adrastia's part, but it was expected of him. "Very true, Inquisitor, but we have never fought the Men of Iron before. Within less than a month, the Machine was able to build up an army large enough to conquer an entire planet. It even defeated the Necrons, a feat that everyone has told me should be impossible. Moreover, the Man of Iron is not our only enemy. We simply can't afford to send dozens of battlefleets to scour the Segmentum while still keeping the Imperium safe from our other enemies. In short, throwing men at the problem won't work. I'd have a better chance of defeating Captain Angelos in a fist fight than an army has at defeating the Man of Iron through strength of arms."

"Then what would you do?" Toth asked, looking (or at least pretending to be) very interested.

"You bring a bolt-pistol to the fist fight." Lucas replied, before turning to the Magos. "We can't fight the Machines, but our ancestors could. Millennia ago, humanity fought these things and won. Rediscovering the weapons or strategies they used then will be our best, if not our only, chance of defeating the Mechanid army. As such, finding them should be our highest priority."

"While your reasoning is sound, the chance that such a weapon still exists is minimal, Governor." The Magos noted.

"I suspected as much. Be that as it may, you have to succeed and quickly. The Iron Tide grows at an exponential rate and while Commander Black isn't violent by nature, it is more than aware that the rest of us do not share its views. We have a very brief window where the Mechanid army will be weak enough to fight. After that…" Lucas shook his head. From the moment the techpriests informed him of the Machine's true nature, he'd been planning for the worst. Unfortunately, none of his plans were particularly viable: even their most optimistic projections would have the Iron Tide growing too fast to fight.

If the Imperium was able to marshal a massive crusade fleet with Mechanicus and Astartes support within less than a year, they might have a chance. If that fleet was competently led and didn't fall prey to the kind of infighting and politics that made large-scale deployments so difficult, they might have a chance. If Commander Black didn't conjure another technological marvel that hard-countered anything the Imperium had to offer…

"You don't think we can fight this." Adrastia said, almost accusingly. How did she…right, Inquisitor. Either she was a psyker, or so skilled at cold-reading that she might as well be.

Lucas sighed. On the one hand, telling the Inquisitors what they wanted to hear would be the best way to stay alive. On the other hand, he had a duty to fulfil and that involved making sure the Inquisition wouldn't plunge the Imperium in an unwinnable war. "I'm not saying victory is impossible. I'm saying that our victory would by pyrrhic at best. Even if we do win, which is by no means a guarantee, the price of victory will be prohibitive unless the Adeptus Mechanicus can recover that technological miracle I mentioned earlier. Without that…Without that, we'll be fighting a long, bloody war against an opponent that combines the worst aspects of the Eldar and the Tyranids: an ever-escalating, ever-evolving mechanical horror led by a frighteningly competent intelligence that hates our government on principle. This is not a war the Imperium will win, regardless of the outcome. Even if the Man of Iron is destroyed, the sheer amount of resources expended will leave Segmentum Ultimus wide open to attack. I'm sorry, Inquisitors, but in my professional opinion, an armed conflict against the Man of Iron will almost certainly end in disaster. Moreover, it is unnecessary: the Machine wants to leave our galaxy and all its horrors behind. It doesn't want to fight."

"I suspect the Blood Ravens might disagree." Sorentus replied, turning to Captain Angelos. Apparently, he was expecting that the Space Marine would endorse him. Surprisingly enough, Angelos didn't. The Space Marine simply shot him an angry glare, clearly not appreciating the words that were being put in his mouth.

"Commander Black attacked the Blood Ravens only after the Blood Ravens struck first. Even then, he didn't use lethal force until Kyras ordered the Exterminatus. Apparently, the imminent death of so many innocents was enough to draw its ire."

Adrastia rubbed her chin. "Which is a problem, in and of itself. We live in a harsh galaxy and certain atrocities must be committed in the name of survival. If the Machine cannot see that…"

"Then we make him see." Toth interjected. "If violence is not an option, diplomacy will have to do. If we send a carefully selected team to act as a go-between…"

"Diplomacy requires trust, Toth. I cannot trust something that refuses to obey to the servants of the Emperor and if the Machine trusted us, it would have submitted to our authority by now. While I like your idea in theory, especially if we can turn the horror on our other enemies, I fear it will only be a waste of time. It will simply play out some sort of charade and stab us in the back when we grow complacent."

A snort nearly escaped Lucas's throat. Commander Black wouldn't do stab people in the back. It'd stab them in the face while carefully explaining to its victims why they deserved this. "That may very well be, Inquisitor, but it would have to expend a considerable amount of resources in order to keep up the charade. This should buy us some time. Hopefully enough for the Mechanicus to find our ancient weapon."

Toth rubbed his chin. "A mission like this would be a delicate thing at the least. Not only would the person undertaking it need to be skilled in diplomacy, his faith would have to be beyond question to resist the Machine's inevitably corrupting influence. He would have to possess the strength of will and character to stay true to his mission while also ensuring that the Machine does not turn against him. The mission would be dangerous, if not suicidal." He leaned forward, turning his full attention to Lucas. "Are you volunteering yourself, governor?"

Castor sighed. For a second, Lucas blinked, wondering why the Lord General did that. Then, he realized what had happened. He'd been played. The Inquisitors…they'd played him like a fiddle. They knew what had to be done and they knew the situation going in. Sending an emissary to Commander Black was almost a necessity, since only a fool could consider defeating the Man of Iron through strength of arms a viable course of action. Lucas Alexander was the best man for the job, as he'd been the only one to ever establish something resembling a working relationship with the Machine. However, there was a very good chance that the mission would end badly, so the Inquisition couldn't just order him to do it without making it look like he was deliberately sent on a suicide mission.

Except, like a fool, Alexander had suggested the idea himself. He couldn't back down now: everyone knew that there weren't any better candidates and cowardice was still a capital offence in the Imperial Guard. Moreover, since he suggested the plan, it couldn't be seen as a punishment anymore. Those sick, inquisitorial sons of bitches had been railroading him all along and there was nothing he could do about it anymore.

He looked at the three of them, not bothering to reign in his unyielding hatred. Not one of them looked even remotely guilty at what they were doing. Instead, they waited impatiently for an answer. "I suppose I would be the logical candidate, all things considering. While I sincerely doubt the Machine likes me, let alone trusts me, we have come to a…rapport, during the Kronus campaign. That could be used to our advantage."

The Inquisitors simply nodded, as if unaware of the duplicity taking place here. Those bastards weren't even human anymore, weren't they? How in the nine hells is humanity supposed to survive if monsters like them chart its course?

"Then I'd suggest the following:" Inquisitor Adrastia declared "Governor Alexander will regain his original title of General. Custody of the Kronus system will fall in the hands of Colonel Vash and the first Kronus regiment until a civilian administration can be put in place. General Alexander will lead a diplomatic mission to the Man of Iron with the goal of establishing some form of dialogue between it and the Inquisition. This mission will guide the Machine away from the Imperium and, if possible, towards our mutual foes. In the meantime, the Adeptus Mechanicus will do whatever it can to recover any lost knowledge or weapons that could be used against the Machine and its legions. The details will be hashed out by our acolytes before the end of the week. If there are any objections, please speak up now."

Yes, he had objections. He had objections to being railroaded. He had objections to being lied to. He had objections to the fact that he'd been sentenced to death by stomach ulcers, aneurisms, and liver failure.

But he held his tongue. As did everyone else.

"I find having to resort to diplomacy distasteful," Inquisitor Sorentus said "especially with a living affront to the Emperor. However, I understand the necessity and offer no objection. Emperor forgive us, the Inquisition has done worse."

"Agreed. The Inquisition was founded to do the lesser of two evils. We do not have the luxury of winning clean, tidy victories anymore." And with Inquisitor Toth's words, Alexander's fate was sealed.

Emperor protect him, for he knew the Inquisition would not.

Lucas left the conclave in a daze. Part of him didn't want to believe what'd happened. Another part crushed that, ruthlessly. It was a death sentence, pure and simple. A delayed one, but a death sentence nonetheless.

He found himself wandering towards an observation deck, looking out at the spaceport and the hulking behemoths that made up the Imperial battlefleets. For a moment, he wondered what Commander Black's battleships would look like. Would he ape Imperial ship-building philosophies or invent his own? How much more potent would they be compared to their Imperial counterparts? He ended that line of thought. Lucas would find out soon enough.

The heavy footfalls of a Space Marine crept up behind him. "General Alexander."

"Captain Angelos." He answered, icily. Lucas reminded himself that he should be a little more polite, especially since the Space Marine had tried to help him. Then remembered that he was as good as dead anyway and lost the ability to care.

"I am not your enemy."

"Your chapter master seems to disagree."

"I am not Azariah Kyras either." The Space Marine walked besides him, trying to seem approachable even as he towered over the general. "While I do not believe that Kyras was in the wrong, I cannot say you were either."

Lucas's mouth fell open in surprise. "You're a Blood Raven."

"I serve the Emperor above all else, even my chapter." The captain replied. "And the Emperor lost that day. Good men died, on both sides, and now this…"

"You didn't know?"

The captain frowned. "No, though with the benefit of hindsight, I think some part of me suspected the Inquisition would try something like this. It wouldn't have been my approach: I would have simply asked."

Lucas snickered. "Going on a suicide mission is one thing, Captain. This…it's not going to work. Sooner or later, the Imperium is going to do something that will compel the Commander to turn on us. When that day comes, I sincerely doubt I'll be able to stop it. I'll be throwing my life away for nothing."

"I disagree and in a few days you will probably realize that too. I've read your records, General. You would not have shirked from your duty."

Sadly, that's probably what would have happened in the end. The general couldn't deny it. "Do you have any idea how badly I want to punch you, Captain?"

"I doubt that would end well for you, General." Angelos quipped back. "Unless, of course, you've brought a bolt pistol with you?"

The two managed to keep a straight face for about ten seconds. Then Alexander punched the Space Marine in the face and they burst into laughter.

Ah, Kronus…

So many battles…so much death…so many shinies…

I didn't realize it at the time, but I'd live long enough to miss the days when an Exterminatus was the worst I'd have to worry about, my body count was no higher than a few hundred thousand voidsmen, and I wasn't so desensitized to violence that I could still consider myself a human being. But, of course, all good things come to an end and the wonderful mess at Kronus had to give way to the shitshow that was Kauruva.

But first, I'd have to try my hand at interstellar travel.

And wasn't that fun…

--

"It is only a simple warp jump."

"We are going to be skimming the surface of Hell. We will be dancing on top of the source of everything wrong in this universe. I am not taking any chances." I sighed. Orkanis was wise and incredibly knowledgeable, but his understanding of the universe was about 60 million years out of date. "Maybe if I add another Gellar Field?"

"You have twelve! Most 'Human' vessels use only one and perform jumps like this frequently without issue." The ancient wraithseer patted the nearest bot on the shoulder. "We will only be skimming the surface and you have checked every variable in triplicate. What could possibly go wrong?"

Suddenly, every optic in his general vicinity glared at him. "Orkanis, I am not a religious man, but there are some phrases that cannot, in any way, shape, or form, be uttered. 'What could possibly go wrong?' is one of them. The universe is listening!"

To be fair, I had tested every component extensively during the last few days. At the edge of the system, I'd built a prototype warp-capable ship that was little more than a reactor, a few thrusters, the Tau-derived Warp drive, and a giant pile of Gellar Fields, all controlled by a crude VI. Absolutely nothing horrible happened. Then I sent one of my converted asteroid ships to a nearby barren system. It arrived completely intact and was currently setting up a base there. In fact, I probably didn't need the Gellar field, since the Tau never seemed to bother with them…

On the other hand, Chaos. Not taking chances, oh no. A fact that Orkanis did not seem to understand. "I am aware that much has changed during my slumber, but…"

"There are at least three gods of trolling in this universe, and two of them want me dead. Oh, and any number of daemons that may or may not be looking for a double-bacon robo-burger with a well-aged slice of Eldar."

"While the presence of Immaterial predators is worrying, surely there is little reason to…"

"I mean, do you know how many ships get lost in the Warp? What happens if the Litany of Fury gets lost? Its carrying most of the processors that make up my being. What about any of the asteroid-ships I want to take with me? If one of them gets lost, will I get corrupted through them, or…"

"Would you prefer staying here, where the Imperium and my chronically backstabbing kin can find you?"

For a moment, the glares intensified as I toyed with the idea of replacing my bots' optics with laser cannons and using the old bastard as target practice. "Initiating Warp engines. Destination: ass end of nowhere. If something horrible happens, I'm blaming you."

As the Warp engines flared to life, Orkanis shook his head. "There are many horrors to fear in this galaxy, commander, but something this routine should not be one of them. In fact, I would recommend dismantling a few of your Gellar devices, as they are a waste off good…" As he trailed off, a massive, swirling vortex that smelled suspiciously like hard rock and purple appeared in front of the Litany of Fury. Immediately, I shut down all my sensors. Anything that could conceivably sense something from the outside was shut down. Then, I fired my conventional engines and flew. As we, presumably, entered the Warp, my connection with my other constructs in the material world frayed a little. Not much, but enough that my communications systems needed just a little more energy to work. My resource operation, sadly, shut down almost immediately. I could still access my metal supplies, but the energy cost was prohibitive. Unfortunate. I'd wanted to do some more upgrades, but I guess I'd have to make do with what I had stored on the Litany of Fury until I left the Warp.

That said, the fact that many of my systems still worked across dimensions was encouraging.

Meanwhile, the wraithseer had fallen silent.

"Orkanis?"

"Those Gellar devices you mentioned earlier?" He said, sounding significantly more subdued. "I withdraw my suggestion to dismantle them. In fact, you should consider building more."

I snorted. Yeah, thought so.

"Can you feel that at all, Commander? I have never seen so many abominations in one place. It is as if this ship is a magnet for those things. By the gods, what happened while I was gone?"

And here comes the hard part. Orkanis and I hadn't really talked about the fate of the Eldar empire much. Part of me didn't really want to. Finding out your race had basically failed its divine mandate as galactic protectors was one thing. Finding out they murder-fucked an evil god into existence was another. "How much…do you know?"

"I know of Warp Predators, obviously…The Ancients were being consumed by them and even Eldar could fall prey to them if they were hungry enough, but they were never like this."

"Yeah, the galactic daemon population has grown a little out of control, to put it mildly…"

"But they are different from how I remember them." He continued, horror creeping into his voice. "In my time, warp predators were animalistic, but they avoided any being powerful enough to fight back. These 'daemons'…they hurl themselves at our ship, even as they are pulled in and ripped to shreds by the wake of our passing. Their utter insanity…I do not understand. How could this be?"

Wait, what? There weren't supposed to be any daemons. We were barely touching the Warp, for God's sake! And how were they torn to shreds? By what? Gellar fields don't do that, right? Questions for another time. Right now, I had to explain to an old man how his descendants screwed up the universe, which was bad enough.

I cleared my throat, trying to find a way to put this diplomatically. "Well, you know how the Warp is a reflection of the emotional state of every soul-bearing creature in the galaxy?"

"Of course. It was a well-known fact in our time. Many amongst us, including the Ancients themselves, feared that without some form of regulation, our souls could stir the Warp into a frenzy. To halt this, the Ancients created our Pantheon. Each of our gods would hold dominion over an aspect of our being and keep us from descending into excess and madness. In addition, they taught us about the nature and perils of souls. Together, they would ensure that balance was maintained. Considering the things I can sense as we are skidding over the sea of souls, I can only presume that these measures have failed."

"More or less. As far as I know, between the Necrons and the Warp predators, the Old Ones, your Ancients, basically went extinct. After that, the Eldar ran things for the next sixty million years until they…eh…"

Orkanis looked me in the eye. "The state of the galaxy is the fault of my people, is it not?" My silence was his answer. The wraithseer lowered his head, probably in contemplation or… "Khaine's flaming asscheeks!"

Or he could do that. Huh. Didn't know he had it in him.

"I apologize." Orkanis said, sheepishly. "That was unworthy."

"But not entirely uncalled for." I sighed. This was going to suck. "I'm going to be very familiar with the anatomy of Eldar gods when this is over, aren't I? Anyway, fast-forward to about fifteen thousand years ago and the Warp is basically a giant mess. The Eldar lived in sin for millions of years and did as they pleased, which eventually spawned four evil gods in the warp. When the last, Slaanesh, was born, it ate your Pantheon along with most of the Eldar species. Incidentally, it will probably eat your soul when you die, so try not to. Today, your species has split into three factions: the backstabbing assholes, the BDSM-fetishist assholes, and the let's-stick-our-heads-in-the-sand-and-live-like-farmers assholes. Oh, and there's those fucking clowns too. Not sure what their deal is."

"You are terrible at explaining things." Orkanis noted. "And not very fond of my species, it seems."

"Neither are you. Besides, the Eldar, and Taldeer in particular, haven't done much to make me want to trust them." I retorted.

"Indeed, though I wonder what your reason for that is. Though I mistrust those that suffer from the Farseer Disorder, Taldeer, for all her faults, is hardly representative of the Eldar species as a whole."

For a second, I was lost in thought. He…wasn't really wrong, I suppose. Farseers were the exception amongst the Eldar, rather than the rule and it was entirely possible that most Eldar were just ordinary people, no worse than the average human. Hell, Orkanis was a nice guy, and he was an Eldar. Unfortunately, the Farseers were the political elite on most Craftworlds and usually the ones who dictated foreign policy. That, and the Eldar were…Eldar. "I guess that's true, but… I don't know. Maybe I'm being biased, but the way the Craftworlds are run… I just can't bring myself to trust any of them. How can you tolerate someone when you're expecting their knife in your back?"

"Are the humans any different?"

"The imperials won't stab me in the back. They'll stab me in the face while praising the Emperor's name." I shook my head. "Then again, the humans aren't much of a benchmark. It's not that difficult to be better than a bunch of genocidal, theocratic despots."

"It is also not that difficult to be worse."

"Very true." Wondering where this line of questioning was headed, I asked: "I thought you hated your kind. Didn't think you'd want to defend them."

The wraithseer chuckled. "I do not hate my people, Commander, even after hearing this. I am merely disappointed in what they have become. We…we had a great deal of potential, both for good and ill. The Ancients knew this and gave us everything we'd need to thrive: culture, technology, gods… We shouldn't have fallen like this and even now…

"Taldeer mentioned you."

"Nothing too bad, I hope?" I asked, curiously.

"Only the usual Farseer double-speak, as well as a 'request' to come to Ulthwé with her, and a brief, and far more positive, rundown of Eldar history. As if I'd ever trust one of her kind. Their meddling is the reason I was left to rot in a tomb in the first place." His fist clenched, and for a moment I could feel the rage boiling off the wraithseer. "But, that is enough for today. I am weary, and we are both safer from these predators if I withdrew my spirit into my soulstone until we emerge from the Warp."

Well, I had a dozen more questions for the guy, but those could wait. The galaxy wasn't going anywhere and we'd have plenty of time to go over things later. "Alright then. Good night, I suppose."

"A good night to you too, Commander." Without further ado, the wraithseer marched to the former machine shop he'd claimed as a 'bedroom' and fell to his knees like a puppet with his strings cut. For a second, I toyed with the idea of drawing funny faces on his soulstone, then immediately shut them out.

I wasn't that juvenile. Or bored.

According to my calculations, it would take at least a week for the Litany of Fury to arrive at our destination: a barren system that hadn't even been named by Imperial astronomers, much like the one I sent my earlier asteroid ship to. It was largely barren and had nothing of note. No life-bearing worlds, alien artifacts, or mineral deposits worth mentioning. In other words, a perfect place to catch my breath and figure out where to go next. If nothing else, I could start building an army there.

Someone was going to come for me, sooner or later.

--

But fortunately, that someone had been kind enough to give me some time to collect myself.

That, however, was for another time. With no enemies in sight (yet), I had to deal with another problem: boredom. Frankly, there wasn't a lot to do anymore and yet I didn't want to just put myself into standby mode. Not on the first jump where I actually risked my commander body aboard the Litany of Fury, i.e. the only thing I really cared about at the time.

Though, on reflection, I don't really need my commander body. I am an infomorph, after all. All I need is a computer system sophisticated enough to run CommanderBlack.exe without catching fire. With some experimentation, I found that all the cogitators aboard the Litany of Fury linked together could lead of a server farm large enough to house all of me.

Which makes one wonder what the hell went into building my commander body. Haven't figured that out yet, though I hadn't looked into the problem much. As useful as a commander body is, having most, if not all of your processing power stuck in a single body is a huge liability. Tough as they are, there are a still a lot of things that can take them down with little effort. I've always found it better to ape the Tyranids and disperse my intelligence across nodes aboard my ships. The Iron Tide is, after all, a single consciousness, much like the Great Devourer.

Yes, the Mechanid moniker is well earned. I gave up trying to avoid the comparison a long time ago.

At any rate, I spent the next week renovating the Litany of Fury some more: first replacing the broadside macrocannons with a variant that had a lower caliber but was quad-barreled and had a much higher muzzle velocity and rate of fire (mostly against Eldar holofields. If you can't go for precision, go for saturation), then overhauling the void shields (which were resilient enough, just hideously inefficient in terms of energy use and maintenance). I wanted to take on the engines and the hull too, but decided against it. The former I had to leave alone because I didn't dare touch the engines while in the Warp, so I put up with the fact that five of the seven thrusters were either misaligned or unable to operate at peak efficiency without unbalancing the ship. The latter was simply because starships are complicated things and the stupidly resilient hull of a battle barge is a pain in the ass to modify, especially in deep space without access to a massive dockyard. I could clear out bulkheads, but the superstructure was more or less beyond my reach to modify. Oh, I could, but then I might as well build a whole new ship from scratch and, well…the Litany of Fury has sentimental value to me, so I'd just cope with all the structures not fitting just right.

Imagine a bathroom tile floor where all the tiles are in a perfect pattern, except for one random tile in a corner. That's what the Litany of Fury looked like from my perspective. Yes, I know it's petty, it's just…

Alright fine, I'll get on with it.

Jeez, get stuck in the galaxy with the one person who doesn't like technoporn.

You know, you're the one who asked for all this, remember?

Got no one to blame but yourself.

Anyway, where was I? Right, first warp jump which ended…just fine.

No daemons, no monsters, no Eldar (aside from the one who's perfectly okay).

Just peace, quiet, and lots of time for renovation. That I had access to metal extractors again helped too.

Well, the ones I was able to build in that system, anyway. Turns out that my metal transfer systems have a range limitation: about four light-days before the exponential energy consumption becomes prohibitive. Same things with teleporters, sadly.

Annoying. On the other hand, it forced me to get creative and set up a…

Yes, I'm going on a tangent again, cut a bot some slack here. Yes, I know we don't have all day. Do you know how much I hate it when people rush me? Could you…

Fine. God.

--

Orkanis 'woke' up again, stepping out of his machine shop. He looked around at his vastly changed environment and noted: "When I was in the Academy, my fellow cadets once pranked me by moving my bed to the other side of the barracks and adding an anti-gravity unit to my belt. It took me twenty minutes to realize the world did not turn upside-down. I am currently experiencing flashbacks of that moment."

Incredulously, I asked: "You, Eldar, pranks?"

"Why not? Do the Eldar of this era not prank each other?"

"The Harlequins of the Laughing God do, but that usually involves nanite-filled tubes and people exploding."

The Wraithseer lowered his head. "That explains a great deal."

--

Of course, I couldn't wait to show him some of my more necessary additions.

And some of the less necessary ones.

--

"You are a creature of pure data. This vessel is literally an extension of your being. Why do you need a bridge?"

Due to a quirk in the Litany of Fury's design, I ended up with a huge, empty space at the heart of the ship that I couldn't really use. So, naturally, I decided to add a giant battle-bridge, complete with command throne, holographic displays, and lowered catwalks filled with computers and staffed with mecs whose sole purpose in life was randomly pushing buttons and looking busy. To the side were various Imperial memorabilia that I'd taken a liking to, as well as statues of great men like Charles Babbage, Alan Turing, and Isaac Asimov. Thanks to low-lighting conditions and the general gothic aesthetic that I'd maintained, the bridge had become a thing of beauty.

Even if it was a complete waste of metal.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. "Aside from the fact that a ship without a bridge just doesn't look right? Shmuck bait."

"'Shmuck bait?'"

"General purpose idiot attractor. Anyone stupid enough to board a ship full of kill-bots will, inevitably, try to take out what appears to be the most crucial part: the command center. Of course, because I am a creature of pure data, they'll end up slogging through a meat grinder while trying to break into a room full of scenery porn. Very lethal scenery porn, as every bot in the room is armed, most of the artifacts double as either cover or weapon emplacements, and I can flood the area with plasma if pressed."

That seemed to put the wraithseer at ease. "And this big, red button that says 'self-destruct'?"

"Activates a hidden plasma cannon that disintegrates anyone stupid enough to think that I'd put a self-destruct button in plain sight."

Orkanis looked at the button, and then at me. He didn't have a face, but I could feel he was giving me the look.

"I'll bet you ten bucks that someone will one day push that button, and when they do, it'll be hilarious."

"And what would this 'buck' be?"

"A dollar?"

"And what would this 'dollar' be?"

"Currency used by…actually, it probably fell out of use a couple thousand years ago." I noted. "I feel very old."

"You do not get to complain about that."

--

Yes, peace and quiet.

Just me, my bro, and a ship full of killbots.

Perfect Zen tranquility…

Oh, who am I kidding. Of course it wasn't going to last! I mean, if everything was nice and dandy, we wouldn't be here, bitching about it, now would we?

--

"It's quiet." I said to myself. "Too quiet."

"There is no sound in space, Commander. That may have something to do with it."

"Smartass."

"It is what I do. At any rate, if you're looking for something to validate your paranoia, I suggest turning your sensors towards the fifth planet. I suspect I will be very familiar with the anatomy of mechanical gods after you have done so."

With a sense of impending dread, I looked at the planet he mentioned. Nothing, as far as I could tell. Just a gas giant that I hadn't gotten around mining yet. For a moment, I thought he pulled some sort of 'made you look' prank on me. However, Orkanis didn't seem like the kind of person to do something so juvenile. Instead, I sent a pack of void-capable scouts to double check.

After a few hours of searching, they found an Eldar Wraithship hiding in the upper atmosphere. It had a string of runes emblazoned along its hull. Runes that translated to 'Vision of Lileath', as Orkanis helpfully noted.

"MOTHERFU-"

--

Because fuck the Eldar.

Fuck them with a rainbow-patterned chainsword.

17. Join the Army, Meet New People...

Let me just say something first: Taldeer is a bitch.

She's manipulative, arrogant, dismissive of others (including other Eldar), and not nearly as clever as she thinks she is.

I think it is a testament to my patience that I've able to tolerate her at all. I mean, I have so many ways of brutally murdering her…

Did you know you can tickle an Eldar to death? Gently rub their hyper-sensitive ears for about a whole day continuously, and the unending barrage of sensation will eventually cause them to have a heart attack. They'll literally die laughing. How I know that? Blood Ravens librarium, of course. Kyras is a sick fuck in more ways than one.

What, I wouldn't actually do that. If I wanted to kill an Eldar, I'd just use a gun. Much simpler.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, right: Taldeer's a bitch. Did I mention that already? Well, it's worth mentioning again.

--

I stared at the ship in front of me. It was pitch-black, graceful, and absolutely beautiful to look at and I wanted it to go away. I wanted it very badly.

Turn off optics, turn back on. No, didn't work. It's still there.

Fuck.

"That's Taldeer, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is." The wraithseer calmly replied. "I believe she wishes to come aboard."

"So the whole 'creepy stalker' act isn't enough for her now? No, she wants to step inside of me and dance through my hallways with her filthy, meatbag footsteps…and you're sending her that, aren't you?"

"Her reaction amuses me." Orkanis deadpanned.

I sighed. Too easy. "Fine. What does she want?"

"Like I said, she wants to come aboard. I think she wants to provide her 'guidance' to us. Not just you, us."

That said guidance came with strings attached went unsaid. "Guess we'll just have to hear her out, then. Tell her to use the fucking vox. If she has something to say, she can say it to me directly."

A few moments later, I received a vox signal from the Eldar vessel. Okay, Taldeer wants to talk. Great. Now, how to handle this…

Obviously, she wasn't going to take no for an answer, so asking her to piss off wouldn't work. Eldar ships are faster than mine, so running isn't an option either. As for shooting her…okay, assuming I actually won, I'd have made an enemy of Craftworld Ulthwé, which is undesirable to say the least.

So I was stuck with her, for the time being. Didn't mean I couldn't troll the living daylights out of her.

The moment I opened the vox channel, Taldeer spoke: "Commander."

"You know, the way you keep following me…people are going to talk. Never figured you for someone who's into bestiality. Or would that be 'robosexuality'? I'm not sure if there is a word for this."

I could practically feel the irritation streaming from the other side. Given Taldeer's powers, that might not even be a hyperbole. "Commander, I'm not here for idle talk or insults."

"No, you're here to 'help'. In your own, unique way that's not really helping at all and probably gets yourself and everyone around you killed in horrible ways. No offense, lady, but I think we're all better off without you."

"I disagree and if you could see what I've seen, you would understand."

"I'm not really sure I would." On a whim, I tried to get a firing solution on the Eldar ship, in case Taldeer got any ideas. Sadly, the Eldar holofields were better than I thought. My targeting computers thought the ship was in about ten different locations at once, all within about a ten kilometer radius. There was no way to tell where the ship was located exactly. If I fired a spread-out barrage, I might be able to hit something, but I couldn't be sure that I'd hit something important. "Listen, Taldeer, you're a cute and all that, but really, really don't like the idea of you snooping around my ship. We both know you don't have my best interests at heart. Whatever you're planning, it'll probably end with me dying horribly."

"Or with you leaving our galaxy to escape the madness." She immediately snapped back. "I know you do not wish to be here and if you leave before you fall to Chaos, you will be no threat to the Eldar anymore. As far as I am concerned, that is a mutually beneficial outcome."

Incredulously, I asked: "And you're just going to give that technology?"

"The Eldar do not possess such technology, Commander. We may have in the past, but no more. However, the Necrons still might."

Ah, so that's where this is going. "And you just happen to know the locations of several tomb worlds that may or may not threaten Ulthwé someday." A statement, not a question. It's actually a major plot point in Retribution's Eldar campaign.

"I will not mourn the deaths of our ancient enemies, Commander, and I doubt you feel any differently. Helping you leave will ensure that the threat you represent is dealt with, and if you annihilate a few tomb worlds in the process…so much the better."

It was…a compelling argument. A win-win situation. If anyone else had made the offer, I might have taken them up on it. Sadly, I was talking to an Eldar Farseer which left me wondering how much of that was just sufficiently well-spoken bullshit.

Opening a line to Orkanis, I asked: "What do you think?"

"The Farseer hasn't told you everything." He replied. "Their kind never does."

Which, of course, meant I had no idea what she really wanted."If she really thought I could become a threat to the Eldar, why am I still alive? Why did she let me build up? Wouldn't it be safer to not take any chances and gank me when I'm vulnerable."

"A question she will not answer. At least, not with the truth."

I thought for a moment, trying to come up with scenarios in which this whole mess wouldn't backfire horribly. "Part of me wants to say no, but… She's not going to stop plotting if I tell her to go away, is she?"

"No, I suppose not. If nothing else, she'll be plotting where you can see her. Whether that makes her more or less dangerous is a question I cannot answer."

Well, that's reassuring.

Turning back to the Farseer, I said: "Alright, come on board. Your shuttle can land in the prow hangar. Just know that I will be checking your luggage. And everything else."

Taldeer simply nodded and the connection was silenced. Immediately, I got to work. First, I rebuild one of the guests' quarters. Nothing too fancy. Just a couple of bedrooms with on-suite bathrooms, a kitchen, and their respective furnishings. As much as I mistrusted the Eldar, I did want to be a good host. Mostly because I wasn't a dick, but also because I was hoping she'd let her guard down if she slept on nice mattresses and got some good food in her stomach. Besides, on the off chance that she was on the level (a killbot can dream, right?), insulting her by making them sleep on the floor wouldn't do.

Of course, a breathable atmosphere would also be appreciated. Three percent oxygen wouldn't be enough. As would some temperature controls, since the heat from the reactors had radiated throughout much of the ship.

Huh. Funny how you stop thinking about that sort of thing when you no longer need them.

While I was busy making the Litany of Fury habitable again for organic life, a small craft appeared from the clouds. An Eldar shuttle, and a small one at that. Gracefully, the craft flew towards my ship, its solar sails adjusting themselves towards the sun to catch the solar winds.

Which, as I will remind anyone with insufferable smugness, is utter bullshit written by scientifically illiterate morons. Yes, solar winds are a thing and you can theoretically sail them if you had a sail that was a few hundred square kilometers in size, but the amount of force they exert is miniscule. Certainly not enough to move a ship the size of a Thunderhawk anywhere in an appreciable period of time.

Unfortunately, this is Eldar tech, which means it runs on sorcery, magitech, and bullshit.

At least the ship looked pretty, albeit dangerously fragile. That, and I could get a target lock on the thing. Presumably, the holofields were turned off…which meant that I could literally blow them out of the sky right now, Farseer and all. Just one little nudge on the fire-everything button…

And then I'd have to deal with Craftworld Ulthwé coming back for revenge and the bitch probably knew that too. Fucking Taldeer, dangling her assets in front of me, begging me to come and NO NO NO NO.

Christ.

I sent a fighter to intercept and guide the craft towards the hangar. Not that they needed it, but I had appearances to keep. Eventually, it landed with a barely audible sigh. Almost immediately, a ramp opened on the side and Taldeer stepped out. Behind her were three armed warlocks and six large, floating boxes that looked a bit like caskets. The moment the last casket cleared the ramp, the door shut tight and the shuttle sped off at three times the speed that it'd come in.

"You know," I spoke, closing in on the Eldar party "the way those guys are rocketing away, I'd almost thing they're happy you're gone."

"They have their duty, as I have mine." Taldeer replied, not taking the bait.

"Yes, I suppose they do." I let a mec step forward, doing my best to loom over her the best I could. It didn't really work: Taldeer was very tall and she had this presence about her. She refused to be cowed, much to my annoyance. "You're here to give me intel, but if I can't trust that intel you're useless to me. I don't like useless things unless they improve the scenery, and you're wearing far too much clothing for that."

The hangar doors closed and air was pumped into the chamber. When the process was done, Taldeer and her Warlocks lifted their helmets. "Then it would be in the interest of cooperation to show some trust."

I inched a little closer, but Taldeer stood her ground, her face utterly serene. She was disturbingly beautiful, I noticed, which made me even more suspicious. I was never particularly good-looking as a human, so when a pretty girl shows interest in me, my first instinct was to assume she's trying to screw me over. I've never been wrong before and I didn't think I was wrong now. "History is full of stories about people who trusted Farseers and how it bit them in the ass." The Farseer didn't react. Hmm. "History is also full of stories about Farseers that ended up creating the very disaster they were trying to prevent." A twitch. Must have hit a nerve. "I'm sure Orkanis will be more than willing to share, if you ask nicely. The man is quite a storyteller."

"I am sure he would be. Assuming, of course, that you can trust him."

"Funny. He said the same about you. Repeatedly. In a far less polite fashion."

Then, one of the warlocks stepped forward and cleared his throat. He looked older than the others, with salt-and-pepper hair and a weathered and wrinkled face; all clearly visible in spite of the amount of make-up he was wearing. I wondered how old he really was. "If I may be so bold, my lady, perhaps it would be best if we let the good commander make his demands. We are, after all, guests aboard his ship."

"That, and he has more weapons than we do." A second helpfully added with a thick accent. She was short, looked much younger than the others, and her armor looked different. Less ornate, but also having a few attachments that the others didn't have. She stalked towards one of the suits of Terminator armor I'd brought. "I must ask, is that real Terminator Armor? Were you actually able to possess one?" The glares she received from, well, everyone barely deterred her.

"To answer your question: yes, that's real Terminator Armor. As for my 'demands'…" I sighed. Time to lay down the law, I suppose. "I'm not going to kick you off my ship. God help me, I could use some advice from someone who hasn't been in stasis for sixty million years. However, I cannot and will not trust you. You Farseers have caused too many problems for me to even consider that. So, here's what's going to happen: when you get a vision, you're going to tell me everything. Not something, not what you think I need to hear, everything. If you lie, I'll know. Then you're going to explain that vision to me, in detail, every step of the way, until I follow and agree with the train of logic that leads from your vision to whatever insane plan you've cooked up. I'll promise to listen, but I will be making my own decisions in the end."

Taldeer frowned, but seemed to relent. "That is…acceptable. We will oblige."

Or at least, she'll pretend to. I'd eat my hat if she didn't see this conversation coming and hadn't planned every word. "Very well, then. I've prepared some living arrangements for the lot of you: beds, food, running water, that sort of thing. If I need to make any adjustments based on your physiology, let me know. The Blood Ravens had a lot of information about housing Eldar, but not a lot on housing them comfortably."

"We brought our own food and medical supplies, Commander." The elderly warlock said, pointing at the caskets behind them. On a side note, I need to learn their names at some point. "The thought is appreciated. The beds certainly will be."

"That's good to know." I replied as I led them to the elevators. Well, they weren't really elevators. They were more like a subway that could also go straight up. Pretty necessary if you want to get around a ship the size of a major city. While the subway was moving, the Eldar simply sat, conversing amongst themselves in their own language. I'd have to get Orkanis to translate that, just in case.

Speaking of Orkanis, he'd left the ship.

Well, sort off. He'd taken a teleporter to a nearby asteroid base. One of the places I'd stored the captured Necron artifacts for research. More importantly, it was the place that I'd taken the Necron Lord. Orkanis had been sifting through the artifacts, looking for something, until he stumbled onto the heavily restrained form of the Necron Lord, kept online because I wasn't sure if I could turn him back on again if I him shut down.

The two stared at each other and for a moment I was worried that the wraithseer would do something rash. "Orkanis?"

"I was looking for something to counteract the Farseers powers, but instead I came upon this. I never thought I would see a Lord in such a position." He spoke, very softly. "They are always so proud. So dignified. So calculating. Even in defeat, they still stand tall. Much like Farseers, in that respect."

"About Taldeer…"

"You'll have to deal with her somehow, Commander. I suppose we both do. I cannot hide myself away forever." Orkanis didn't move. He kept staring at the Necron Lord, who kept staring back.

"Um…About the Necron…I kind of want him intact…"

"You think I will finish what you have started?" The wraithseer asked, sounding incredulously.

"Your peoples had been at war for a very long time. Sure, it's sixty million years ago for us, but from your perspective the War in Heaven was still happening two weeks ago. I'm sure you hate him very much…"

Orkanis barked with laughter. The Necron Lord's head tilted slightly. "Hate him? Hate the Necrontyr? Oh, Commander, I do not hate them. The younger ones did, certainly, but those more sensible will realize that our war was never with their kind."

Now there's a surprising sentiment. "Really?"

"Our war was with the dread C'Tan. They, and only they, were responsible for the destruction wrought during that ancient conflict. The Necrontyr were merely the first they consumed. I do not hate them, Commander. Seeing this one here, seeing what his vaunted immortality truly cost him…I pity them."

While Orkanis was speaking, the Necron Lord lowered his head. He…actually understood what we were saying, didn't he? Which meant that he could reason and was actually sentient…and I'd kept him chained to a wall for days. I should probably get him down from there. I had assumed that I was dealing with the pre-retcon omnicidal maniac brand of Necrons, but apparently I was wrong.

"And so our fall is complete…" The Necron Lord suddenly said. Apparently, he could talk too. I really need to get him some better accommodations. He's a prisoner, not an artifact. Necron or no, he doesn't deserve to be treated like that. With a thought, the mechanism that restrained him opened up and the Lord fell to the ground. Uneasily, he stood up and started ranting. "Is this what our people have been reduced to? Ancient tombs to be picked apart by scavengers? Children's stories, not even worthy of hatred?!"

"You chose your own destiny, Necrontyr." Orkanis replied, sternly. "You brought your doom upon yourselves."

"Your precious masters left us no recourse, Eldar! We spoke up against their supposed wisdom, we told them of the doom they were calling upon us all, but they did not listen. Instead, they banished us to the dark places, to the toxic womb that was our home. We were too divisive, they said. Too…defiant." The Necron Lord's voice could not emote properly, but I could still feel the venom in his voice. I could only imagine his hatred for the Old Ones.

"You made war with everyone around you. You conquered and enslaved with reckless abandon, and justified it with claims of galactic hegemony. You were a threat. The Ancients were right to contain you until you accepted their teachings."

"And what have those teaching wrought, dear wraithseer? What has become of the Realm of Souls since the Eldar took up the mantle? I cannot reach into the Immaterium, but even I can see the effects of what you have wrought."

"And had the Ancients lived, perhaps they would have steered us away from this doom."

"And what does that say of you, that you cannot save Creation from yourselves without the Old Ones holding your hand?"

"That we were but children, Lord." Orkanis replied, sullenly. "Fools who thought themselves the equals of gods and paid for it with their very souls."

Suddenly, the Necron Lord's posture seemed to soften. "I suppose we share that failing."

"Yes, we do." The wraithseer lowered his head and sighed. "The War in Heaven took so much from us. There were no victors in that conflict."

"There are no victors in war, Iron Knight, certainly not in that one. Peace has always been…preferable."

"I do not think there can be peace between our peoples…but perhaps there can be peace between us…Lord Sekhareth, if I am not mistaken."

"Indeed. Our ancient codes of battle dictate that violence should end when there is nothing more to gain from it. I can accept peace on these terms, Wraithseer Orkanis."

The Necron Lord held out his hand and Orkanis shook it. Did that…did I just watch two sworn enemies make peace? In the 40k universe? Was that even allowed? Was Matt Ward going to fall from the sky and powerbomb the two of them for violating some cosmic law?

Apparently not. Surely this was a sign that the End Times were upon us. Or that someone was messing with me. Maybe even both.

"And who is this construct, good seer?" Lord Sekhareth asked. "I admit, its existence surprised me. I did not realize the Eldar had any interest in creating non-Empyreal machines." The Lord turned to me, bowing politely. "You never did give me a chance to surrender. Allow me to formally lay down my arms, as is proper in defeat."

Orkanis fidgeted. "This is Commander Black. He…he is not an Eldar construct."

Sekhareth stared at me. His face betrayed nothing, but his head kept twitching. I could only assume this was the Necron's WTF-face. "He…you are not…"

Before the Necron Lord could blue-screen completely, I decided to speak up. "I'm a Man of Iron. The humans built me."

"The…humans. You were built by humans… I was bested by those screaming, hairless apes?!" Sekhareth practically shrieked.

Technically, no…except yes because I was sort of human…kinda…if you squint. "If it makes you feel any better, I was built during their golden age thousands of years ago. The whole 'screaming' thing is kind of a new development. That, and I'm not really fond of them either. Nor do I work for them. Because they're cunts."

Stunned, the Necron Lord stared at me. For a moment, I thought he'd crashed. Instead, he shook his head and exclaimed: "I will never hear the end of this. That I lost my…that I lost my tomb world…everything…to primitives…"

"Well…it could be worse…" I said, hoping the Necron Lord wouldn't do anything stupid. "At least you have your health…"

"You tore out my heart and crushed it right in front of me." Sekhareth replied, coldly. His polite façade cracked.

"To be fair, I didn't crush your heart, I ripped it out and the thing sort off exploded." Which, in hindsight, I probably should have put more diplomatically. "I'm not very good with Necron technology, okay, and it was the only way I could get your teleporter out. Accidents happen. Besides, I got you a new heart!"

The Necron Lord looked down at his chest, poking the device I added like an organic might pick at a scab. "I suppose your gift comes with the ability to shut me down at a moment's notice…"

"Only if you start killing people again. You know, like you did on Kronus."

"My world was overrun by vermin. I had every right…"

Oh, don't you dare. "The same vermin that created the thing that shot up your crypts and stole everything not nailed to the floor. They're called humans and in spite of all their…issues, they deserve to live just as much as you do."

For a moment, we stood in silence. Then, the Necron Lord relented. "A naïve point of view, but I cannot argue with strength. You did best me for a reason."

Because you're an arrogant prick who hadn't bothered to hire a half-decent cryptek.

"Yes, I did. This, however, leads us to a problem."

"Oh?"

"I originally assumed that none of the Necrons on Kronus were sapient."

"Hardly an unfounded assumption. My tomb world was small and I never had the rank or renown to acquire a court of my own. Sadly, my underlings are little more than tools and I usually do not bother with diplomacy when combatting the lesser races of the galaxy. Dreadfully lonely, if I might say. I do not believe I have had a conversation in millions of years."

I stopped for a moment, trying to find the words. Sekhareth really was kind of an asshole, wasn't he? If what I remembered from the post-retcon Necrons was true, then basically everyone aside from the Necron Warriors should have something resembling self-awareness or direction, meaning that they possess at least some of the hallmarks of sapience. But that didn't matter to the Necron nobility, did it?

Or maybe I was wrong. The other Necrons just sort of sat in their containers, unmoving. Then again, Sekhareth had done the same thing until Orkanis arrived.

"Be that as it may, I'm not going to keep you chained to a wall like some wild animal. That was wrong of me and I'm sorry it took me this long to realize you were actually sentient. However, that does beg the question of what I'm going to do with you now."

Sekhareth nodded. "I understand. I…would prefer to be somewhere more accommodating myself. If it pleases you, I can give you my word that I will not attempt to spy, combat, or otherwise undermine your operations in any fashion."

As if I was going to fall for that. "Promises are easily broken."

"A Necrontyr Lord's word is his bond, Commander." Orkanis interjected. "Those that break their promises, even those made with 'lesser races', inspire little trust amongst their kin. That and you can shut him down with a thought. There is little he could do to you, even if he desired it."

"Lord or not, he's still a POW. I'm not giving him free reign over the ship."

"Of course not, but giving him the same treatment as you are giving Farseer Taldeer should be perfectly acceptable."

I couldn't help but wonder why Orkanis was defending him. Burying the hatchet was one thing, but actively helping him…Unless…

"You just want to put him and Taldeer in the same room and watch the explosions, don't you?"

"Of course not! That would be highly unbecoming of a seer of my station." Orkanis shot back, his voice thick with sarcasm. "But when they do meet, would you please take as many pictures as you could? I would greatly appreciate it."

Meanwhile, Lord Sekhareth lowered his head. "Reduced to a mere jester. I will be the subject of mockery until the end of time."

For a second, I kind of felt sorry for him.

Then I remembered that the Necrons forced the whole bio-transference thing on their people, even knowing that anyone who wasn't a high noble would be left a mindless automaton.

Forget what I said earlier. He totally deserved this.

--

You know, Necrons are assholes, now that I think about it. So are Eldar. And humans. And Tau, too.

Why don't I ever meet anyone nice?

'Am I any better'? Of course I am…

Don't you play that card with me! The Blood Ravens deserved that! And the Bolter Bitches definitely did! And trolling a man who's just trying to save his dignity is perfectly fine when he's a racist jackass.

Threadmarks 18. ...And Troll the Hell out of Them

I'm going to be perfectly honest here: having a Farseer on board is not nearly as helpful as one would think it is.

Yes, they can see the future. Yes, their visions are usually correct and they've managed to prevent their species from going extinct for more than fifteen thousand years. It's just that their visions are allegories wrapped up in mythology as seen through the lens of human error. That, and it's really hard to trust someone you don't…well…trust.

In other words: I might as well be flipping coins. It'd probably be better for my blood pressure if I did.

--

"The Falcon is a bringer of hope in our ancient tales." Taldeer explained, talking to me as if she was talking to a child. She leaned on the table and waved her hands about as if she was trying to explain it through gestures. If I had been a child, it might have been endearing. As for now…it just comes across as condescending. "He brings the tools we need to save ourselves."

"Or it could be a reference to the Egyptian god Horus, the god of the sky and the embodiment of kingship." I argued. I was actually rather glad that I hadn't created anything with a face, yet. This way, no one would know how frustrated I was so long as I could manage to keep my voice even. These were the moments that I missed being able to consume alcohol. The worst part? I wasn't even sure how the Falcon tied into anything anymore. Somewhere along the line, I'd lost Taldeer's train of thought. AI or not, she was hard to follow when she slipped into Farseer-mode.

Which may have been the point all along.

Larrissa, the small seer who'd been on duty to help interpret Taldeer's visions, raised her hand. "Which in turn might make it a reference to the arch-heretic of the same name in Mon-Keigh history." Taldeer shot the girl (hundred-sixty or no, I couldn't see her as anything other than a girl) what I'd come to call the 'Glare of Universal Disapproval', causing her to shrivel up. "Sorry. I only wanted to help."

Ignoring the interplay, I continued: "Or it could be a fucking bird. Because that's what a falcon is. Sometimes a bird is just a bird. You know, Duckism. If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck…"

Larrissa raised her hand again. "What is a duck and how is it related to anything we are discussing?"

Taldeer sighed. I think she was on the verge of having a migraine. Again. The bags under her eyes weren't looking so good either. "Very little is what it seems in a vision."

"But overthinking is still a thing."

The two of us locked glares while Larrissa quietly poured herself a cup of tea.

The Eldar seemed to be very fond of tea, especially human blends. All except Taldeer: she was a recaff person through-and-through. The rate at which she was drinking, she'd probably suffer from kidney failure within a year. Which was a horrible way for an Eldar to go, as the Blood Ravens' records attested in exhausting detail.

Seriously, what the hell, Blood Ravens?

"I'm going to abduct a five-year old." I eventually decided. "Nearest populated world, I'm grabbing one. If the kid thinks you're overthinking and can produce an equally plausible, alternate explanation for your visions, we're going back to the drawing board."

"Commander…"

Thankfully, relief came in the form of Mohannis, the elderly warlock who was probably the only one with the strength of will to get Taldeer to back down from something. "I believe that is enough for today, lady Farseer."

The Farseer, as usual, relented and withdrew to her chambers to meditate. Meanwhile, in the back, Curon snorted. "Is all this truly necessary?" He asked. The third of Taldeers followers, Curon rarely spoke to me. When he did, it was usually to inform me why I was an idiot for not trusting Taldeer blindly. Like that would ever happen.

Curon, Larrissa, and Mohannis.

Curly, Larry, and Moe.

Somewhere, somehow, a random omnipotent being probably thought he was being hilarious.

"Maybe, maybe not." I answered. "I'm not letting her drag me by the nose."

"So instead, we argue about mythology until the heat death of the universe." Curon complained, rubbing the bridge of his nose in a surprisingly human gesture of frustration. "Lady Taldeer has done this for a very long time, Commander, and we are all still here. A little faith would not go amiss."

"General Sturn of the Cadian 412th would probably disagree. Along with who knows how many poor bastards she's tricked over the years. I'd rather not join them in the grave." It was an old argument between us, by now. He called it 'trust issues'. I call it 'healthy sense of self-preservation'.

"Could you two not have this conversation again?" Larrissa asked, exasperatedly. "Neither of you will convince the other. It is an utter waste of breath."

"Obviously, you've never been a politician…"

--

Oh, but we were making progress.

Not much, but some.

But hey, it could have been worse! At least I didn't have the Imperials to deal with…

For a couple of days.

--

If knowledge is power, then keeping knowledge from your enemy is probably the highest virtue in war. When Lucas Alexander returned to Kronus a week after I'd left and told me he'd been assigned as 'ambassador' by the Inquisition, I didn't want him to learn the location of any of the systems I'd claimed. Right now, my best defense against the Imperium of Man was the sheer amount of space I could have colonized. By the time the Imperial Navy was done checking it all, exponential growth would have set in and I'd be too entrenched to remove without extreme losses.

Of course, all that depended on the Imperials not knowing where I was for the next few months, so I agreed to meet near a brown dwarf a dozen lightyears away from any of my bases.

Part of me was tempted to build a base there too, but I decided against it. The brown dwarf was just a ball of hydrogen that wasn't big enough to ignite into a star. There were no planets in the system. At least, nothing worth getting. It'd be more trouble than it was worth.

Unlike the Eldar vessel, the Imperial ship stood in plain sight, broadcasting its location and desire to communicate. Something I appreciated; the Imperials were always pleasantly straight with me, even if they wanted me dead more than anyone in the galaxy.

"So…Guess the Inquisition wasn't too happy if they sent you here, of all places…" I began as Alexander and his men stepped off the Valkyrie transport. He'd brought his command squad from Kronus with him: Commissar Gebbit, Primaris Psyker Ozman, and the Kasrkin sergeant Kirnov. He also brought two others: a confessor, and a lanky-looking techpriest. The last one made me especially nervous. Then I remembered that I had a Farseer and a Necron Lord on my ship.

Who still hadn't met. Hmm…

"I go where the Emperor has need of me, Commander." The general calmly replied. "This is Father Martell and Magos Explorator Vacille. You've already met the others."

I glared at the Magos, who looked back impassively. "And I suppose this is the part where I describe the horrible things I could do to you and you pretend to be cowed by them, but I guess you already know what I can do so we can skip all that."

"I don't think posturing is necessary." Alexander insisted.

"Just wanted to be clear, especially since you brought a techpriest on my ship."

"Am I that frightening to you, Commander?" The Magos spoke in a soft, feminine tone. She seemed legitimately surprised. "One would think an ancient, near unstoppable weapon of war would have little to fear from a singular techpriest."

"I like peace and quiet. I like being alive and in control of my own faculties. Your organization's modus operandi when encountering people like me involves violent reprogramming. Moreover, you come from a culture that sees heroic sacrifices as the highest thing one can achieve in life. There is a very real possibility that you're going to try something stupid. I'd rather you didn't."

"Then why did you let us aboard your ship?"

"Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer." I answered, bluntly. "It's why I haven't spaced Taldeer and her gophers yet."

Alexander's eyes widened. "Taldeer? That Taldeer?!"

"The one and only."

"You let that Eldar witch on this ship? Are you crazy? She'll betray you the moment you'll stop being valuable to her."

I gave him a look. A long, hard look. "Please tell me you understand the irony of that statement."

"Commander, the loyalty of an Eldar…"

"Let's talk about your loyalty for a second." I interjected, shutting him up immediately. "You are loyal, truly loyal, to the Emperor and to humanity. I respect you for that. It's just that the former decreed that AI's are to be shot on sight and the latter is taught to fear them from birth. I respect you, hell, I even like you, but we both know whose side you're on if you're forced to choose between me and the Emperor." For extra measure, I added: "So basically, you're as trustworthy as an Eldar. Think on that for a while."

He sighed, rubbing his forehead and probably wishing he had something to drink. "I suppose you're not entirely wrong, as much as it pains me to admit it."

"Good. She promised to help me break into a few Necron tomb worlds and I'd rather not have one of you meatbags get between me and my shinies. Not to mention that Taldeer is a Farseer, which makes her kind of important to Ulthwé, so I really can't have you go 'purge the alien' on them, thank you very much. The Eldar are probably going to blame me if something happens to her on my watch which would be very problematic. So, I'll expect you all to be courteous."

Frowning, he replied: "You can't expect me to make friends with these xenos. I know what they can do and I will be watching them."

"I suppose that's the best I can hope for. Maybe they'll be too busy working around you to worry about me." Then I remembered that Taldeer was the reason General Alexander came to Kronus in the first place. God, they weren't going to last 30 minutes before one of them would murder the other. Oh, well, might as well get this out of the way. I guided them towards the guest's quarters, while also calling Orkanis and Sekhareth. If I planned everything just right…yeah, I could make this work.

"Are we sure this is a good idea?" Kirnov asked. "I mean, Eldar…and we're not allowed to shoot them."

"We're not allowed to shoot the Man of Iron either." Vacille noted. I wondered if she realized I could hear her. "I have yet to hear you complain about that."

"That's different. With the Eldar, at least we have a snowflake's chance in hell of winning."

The general shook his head. "The destruction of Necron tomb worlds is in everyone's best interest. So long as the Eldar are willing to help in that regard, we can afford to let them live." Even as he said the words, I could feel the grinding of his teeth. No, he wasn't happy about this either.

"Even if it means living under the same roof as the xenos?"

"You could try teaching them card games…" Ozman suggested. "I've always wanted to play poker with an Eldar…"

"Play cards…with telepaths who can see the future?"

"I find it excellent practice."

Thank you, gentlemen, for being something resembling reasonable. I wonder how long that would last once you realize your nemesis just became your neighbor.

The subway arrived and I held my metaphorical breath. I wasn't dumping them straight into Taldeer's lap, of course. Instead, I'd parked them right next to their new bedrooms; a small cluster of tiny apartments similar to the ones I'd built for the Eldar. I even added a little chapel, modeled after the ones the Space Marines were using. What I hadn't added was a kitchen or a general living room. They'd have to share that with the Eldar.

"These are your bedrooms, for the moment. They're all one-person with attached bathroom and pretty much identical. There's a chapel on your right and a kitchen/living room at the end of the hall. You'll be sharing the last one with the Eldar, by the way."

"Why?" Kirnov asked. "You know that humans and xenos don't exactly get along. It's a big ship, you could have put us anywhere you wanted…" He looked around and entered one of the bedrooms. "Damn, nice place you got. Point still stands about the neighbors."

I let the seeker I was using float towards the soldier until it was mere inches from his face. "Do you know what it takes to keep you meatbags alive? I have to recycle oxygen, purify water, maintain the temperature, somehow get you fed, and a hundred other little things. Not to mention that I run the risk of being spied on or sabotaged at a critical moment. And then there's the cogboy…"

"I'm a woman." Vacille corrected, blankly.

"Coggirl, who probably has enough viruses on her person to make a nurglite jealous. So, with all that in mind, why would I let you on board my ship? Like I said before: you're a distraction for the Eldar. The more moving parts I introduce into the game, the less likely they'll be able to blindside me." Or so I hoped. Unless Taldeer was really good and planned around that too. But if she was that good, how come the Eldar don't win at everything forever?

I pushed that line of thought out of my head. If Taldeer had limits, Alexander would help me find them. If she didn't, then I was boned anyhow.

The general sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I…understand. I suppose this was to be expected. Men, make yourself at home. I'll go meet our…neighbors. Emperor help us all."

He straightened his collar marched off. The other Imperials looked at each other before coming to some sort of unspoken agreement. Commissar Gebbit ran after his superior, grumbling about xenos and machines. Just as Gebbit caught up with him, the general stepped into the kitchen and ran right into one of my shadows and the Eldar, who were enjoying a lunch consisting of fruit and some kind of light pastries.

Right into Taldeer.

Forget thirty minutes. If they made it through the next thirty seconds without a fight, I'd be happy.

Alexander growled, priming his lightning claws but keeping them sheathed. Gebbit hadn't pulled his weapon yet, but he did keep his hand on his bolt pistol. The Eldar, on the other hand, were unarmed but didn't back down. Curon and Mohannis' faces hardened, while Larrissa was frantically looking from side to side, trying very hard to be anywhere but here.

Taldeer, for her part, just looked irritated. Like usual. "I suppose this was to be expected."

"You knew I was coming."

"Yes. I had hoped the Inquisition had sent someone who hasn't spent the past few years trying to kill me, but I will make do with what I have."

The general looked at me before turning back to Taldeer, leaning on the table as he spoke. "I hunted you for a damn good reason, murderer."

This wasn't going well. I needed to deescalate things, and fast. Time for the next stage of my evil plan: Introducing Orkanis and Sekhareth to the rest of the gang. "Sturn's death, while tragic, was…was…" As the wraithseer and the Necron Lord entered, Taldeer's words trailed off. She stared at her ancient enemy, mouth agape and I was treated to a sight that would cherish for the rest of my existence: a Farseer that was completely and utterly flabbergasted.

"T…T…That is a Necron!" Taldeer stammered, her voice trembling. She shot another horrified glance at the ancient Necron, who innocently waved in return.

It was hard to tell, but I think Sekhareth was enjoying this.

"And somehow his presence is more desirable than yours." Orkanis muttered, much to the surprise of all.

"A Necron Lord? Really? I had no idea." I replied, my voice dry. "I thought he was a ham sandwich. I was about to offer him to the Imperials for lunch. Thank you for clearing that one up. I'm pretty sure Lord Sekhareth would have given them indigestion."

Sekhareth tilted his head oddly while Taldeer continued to do her best 'dopey fish' impression. It was good to know that I was able to surprise her. Then, after a few moments, the Farseer regained her composure. "Commander, this…thing is…"

"A danger to myself and everyone around me and I'm an idiot for letting him on my ship. Yes, I've heard that. I've heard people say it about you too and honestly…I don't give a damn. You're the one with the grand plans, but me? I'm not here to save the day and bring salvation to all the good little boys and girls because I'll inevitably make things worse. I'm not your bootlick, I'm not your pet kill bot, and whatever doom you're hoping to avert, I have no stake in it. What we have is a business-only, quid-pro-quo relationship. Nothing more. The moment I get what I need, I'm getting the hell out of here before I fall to Chaos or something equally horrible happens. Capishe?"

"You disappoint me, Commander." Taldeer replied, with an irritated glare on her face.

"Oh I'm a disappointment?! Has it every occurred to you that if you, the Imperium, and the Necrons would stop murdering each other and learned to work together, you could have solved every other problem in the universe by now? But that's never going to happen, is it?" I sighed. This was getting a lot rantier than I anticipated. Calming myself, I said: "Look, I don't hate you. You're not bad people, just scared. As scared as I am. If I could make your problems go away, I would, but I can't. Not when the biggest problems in the world are things that can't be killed with plasma cannons. This story…this story isn't going to have a happy ending and if I stick around, I'll inevitably become part of the problem. So I'm leaving, but that doesn't mean I have to be a dick to everyone or that I can't cooperate. You want to help me knock over tomb worlds, so I let you on my ship. The Inquisition wants an excuse to leave me alone, so I let General Alexander and his men on my ship. Lord Sekhareth surrendered after I defeated him…"

"So you let him on your ship, as your bizarre ideas of honor won over your sense. I suppose it is futile to try and convince you otherwise."

"Yes, it is." I told her, before turning to the general. "Yes, it is."

Alexander frowned, but didn't object. He nodded and returned to his men without a word.

"W-Well, that went better than expected, right?" Larrissa squeaked. Then she met Sekhareth's undying gaze and squirmed. "Tea?"

"Thank you for the kind offer, young lady, but I am afraid I must decline." The Necron Lord politely replied. He gave me a look before leaving with Orkanis, probably to reminiscence about the good old days when the universe still made sense every once in a while.

For a minute, the kitchen fell completely silent. Then Larrissa broke it. "I have met a Necron." She whispered. "I have met a Necron, and still live…and I offered it tea. Why did I do that? It can't drink tea." She started hyperventilating, before turning to Curon and saying: "You never said there would be Necrons. Well, you did, but we would not go near enough to talk with one."

"To be fair, I could not have anticipated this." Curon defended. "That said, no one told you to offer the Necron tea."

"I…but…" Then she started blushing. "I will never live this down."

Curon smirked. "The look on your face was priceless."

"You did not take pictures!"

"No, but he did." Curon pointed to me. Larrissa's head shot towards me and she looked at me with a pleading expression on her face. Unable to resist, I stood up and walked away while performing the best evil laugh the bot could manage. The girl whimpered.

Ah, Eldar. Not so above it all in the end, aren't we?

--

With that, I left everyone alone for a while. I think I've thrown enough crazy their way for one day. Better let them all recover. In all honesty, the whole mess went better than expected. My biggest concern was that one of them would let their emotions get the better of them and start a shoot-out, but the timely insertion of a certain Necron Lord left everyone so paralyzed with shock that I was able to lay down the law and defuse the situation before it spiraled out of control. Now that everyone had met everyone, they could all cool down and accept the situation for what it was, thus keeping the peace.

Confusion-fu. Refuge in Audacity. Forcing my foes to submit with the sheer power of my randomness. It's Orkish battle tactics translated to the battlefields of social combat.

No, I'm not lucky. I planned all of that. Honest!

Shut up. If it's stupid and it works, it's not stupid. Yes, that's exactly how the saying goes.

I'm not incompetent either. Well, not that incompetent. My social graces might…leave a lot to be desired, but I'm getting by. I convinced members of three mortal enemies to not murder each other, so that's impressive, right?

It was a start, if nothing else. A start to figuring out what made everyone tick and how to make sure that they wouldn't try to murder me when they had the chance. Some were relatively easy to work out. Others…not so much.

--

After Taldeer and Magos Vacille, Lord Sekhareth was probably the biggest threat on the ship.

Funny how that worked. Even though I'd beaten him in battle, forced him to acknowledge his defeat and could turn him off with a thought, he still made me uneasy. Maybe it was the flat, largely monotone voice. Maybe it was his expressionless face. Or maybe it was the cold, calculating mind behind the mask.

A few hours after the meet-and-greet debacle, Sekhareth started exploring the ship, probably due to a lack of things to do. Eventually, he found his way to the bridge and started looking around, seemingly admiring the statues I'd placed there.

"A decoy bridge…" He said, presumably to me, since there was no one else around. "Clever. These artworks, are they of your own creation?"

"More or less." I answered. "I did make them, but the designs have been aped from Imperial architecture. Felt it had character."

"That it does, but not yours." He cryptically replied.

"Oh?"

"Among my people, art is more than an expression of beauty or history. Like heraldry, it is often much more than it seems at a glance. A greater lord will use imagery to set himself apart from his peers. Similarly, a lesser lord will often copy the imagery of the Phaeron or Overlord he serves as a show of loyalty and support. What does it say of you, that your bridge would not seem out of place on an Imperial vessel?"

That I'd feel some sort of connection to the Imperium…or that I was rubbing my theft in the Imperials' faces. He might have a point there. "Technically, the ship is stolen…"

"There is a line between 'theft' and 'acquisition'. So long as you retain the Imperial heraldry, this vessel will always be stolen property. You should reshape it, truly make it your own." He traced his hand over my command throne, as if signaling that I should start there.

The thing is, he wasn't wrong. My bridge was as Imperial as a bridge could get. Gothic architecture, a few errant gargoyles…the throne had decorative skulls, for Pete's sake. I should probably change it. Then I had an idea.

A small flock of maintenance bots crawled out of the woodwork and converged on the throne, spraying it with nano-paste. Sekhareth took a few steps back and looked on, inquisitively. The throne was melted down and reformed into an enormous black-and-grey monstrosity that looked like someone stacked the blackened swords of his defeated enemies in a chair-shaped pile and welded them together with dragonfire.

Because let's face it: whatever you might think of the show, the Iron Throne looked awesome. I should have thought of this much sooner.

Then I realized that Game of Thrones probably stopped airing millennia ago and I'd never learn how the story ends. I'll never know if the Wall comes down, or if John Snow saves the day, or if Tyrion Lannister makes it to the end. It seems like such a small thing, but…

God, I miss home. I miss being human and having a normal life and not being in this fucking hellhole of a universe and…

No. No breaking down. No feeling sorry for myself. Not now. Not until I find a way out of this mess.

"So, what brought this up? Why would you care about my artistic choices?"

"Because Lords are judged by the quality of their enemies, Commander." He said, inspecting my new throne. I think he approved. Not that I'd change it either way. The Iron Throne is iconic as hell, and no one can accuse me of being a copy-cat when the source material has been forgotten a long time ago. "When my people learn of my defeat and realize it came at the hand of a uncultured brute who does not know how to hold court… I would prefer to emerge from this debacle with at least some of my dignity intact."

I decided to ignore the 'uncultured brute' comment. From his perspective, it probably made some sense. "You do realize I'm not a Necron, right? Last time I checked, Men of Iron didn't have courts."

"Oh, but you do, in a manner of speaking. At the top is you: the High Lord with most, if not all of the power. Surrounding you are the lesser lords: the Farseer and the human General, who each bring their own servants with them. They will squabble with each other, fighting for your attention. Something you are counting on, I think. If you truly desired peace, you could have put them at opposite ends of your ship, but you didn't." The Necron Lord paced behind the throne. As much as I hated to be accused to being a manipulator, he wasn't wrong. "And yet…while you are cunning in your own way and have made an excellent start, you are not quite as subtle or manipulative as you'll need to be."

"Afraid you'll look bad?"

"Very. There is always shame in defeat, but to be bested a mere primitive who treats his underlings like equals…unacceptable. If you do not control of your lessers, they will control you."

Once again, not wrong. A bit dickish and Game-of-Thronessy, but not wrong. If I ever find a copy of Game of Thrones around here (somehow), I'd show it to him. He'd probably love it, or at least get a good laugh out of it.

"I suppose you've got a point." I said. Sekhareth nodded and continued wandering, until I called out: "Of course, this wouldn't be some thinly disguised attempt to show you you're useful to me, right?"

"Of course not, Commander. I would not vie for something I already possess." He replied, almost sardonically. "And even if I do not have your ear, watching Taldeer's agonized frustration is amusing enough for a disgraced lord."

--

I still don't know what I hate more about the Necrons: their armies that just won't stay dead, or their bloody politics.

Probably the politics. Definitely the politics.

An entire race where every sapient member is a politician… If there was ever proof that the Gods are evil, that would be it.

The beauty of CCTV is that you can see everything. Every action performed, every word spoken…everything. Of course, that doesn't mean you actually understand what is happening. Taldeer and her people had plans. They had plans within plans. Some of them they shared, others they didn't. They even tried to obfuscate them by only communicating in Eldar, a language that is an absolute pain in the ass to learn. Especially since most Eldar tend to be rather verbose.

That just meant I had to be clever about it.

--

Watching a Farseer do her thing was not what I expected. I was expecting chanting, crystal balls, and the rolling of magic dice. Oh, there was a lot of that, but the more interesting parts were the dreams.

The Farseer would sit on the floor and meditate. Then, after a few minutes, her eyes would open and she started muttering. Mostly she spoke in Eldar, but sometimes in Low Gothic, High Gothic, or a multitude of unnaturally sounding languages that I couldn't follow. Meanwhile, the seer on duty would scribble everything down. As time went on, Taldeer would start to shake violently like a woman possessed, which would cause her companion to grab a tool that totally wasn't a cattle prod and shock her awake.

I once asked why they didn't just throw a bucket of water in her face, but apparently that isn't enough to wake her up.

Then all the seers would get together and try to make sense of whatever it was Taldeer saw before bringing it to me. For the most part, the information had been quite helpful, or at least not actively harmful. They warned me of several seemingly barren systems that actually had life on them for me to avoid and guided me towards some of the more mineral-rich ones. But that didn't mean I'd trust them.

One night, the Farseer started trashing in her sleep, writhing and moaning until she woke up with a scream. Mohannis stormed into her bedroom, but Taldeer shooed him away. Once he was gone, she slowly pulled herself out of bed, rubbing her forehead and wiping a few errant tears away. The woman looked like hell: sunken cheeks, eyes foggy, and her hair was a complete mess. Then she spent fifteen minutes longer than usual (about an hour) tidying herself up in the bathroom (the only place where I didn't have cameras because I wasn't a pervert) before reappearing as her usual drop-dead gorgeous self.

That morning, there had been a particularly heated argument between the seers. I decided to take the video of it to Orkanis, the only one who spoke Eldar and was trustworthy enough not to bullshit me. He looked at the video, and I could imagine him frowning.

"Taldeer dreams of Doom, it seems." The wraithseer said. "She has foreseen terrible things. I am unsure how to translate some of it: faces of metal…a new Imperium that is somehow worse than the old…a great change and an end to all things…"

Needless to say, I was getting rather worried.

Sekhareth, who was never far from his ancient nemesis, chuckled softly. "The galaxy is always ending somewhere. I would not put so much faith in their ramblings."

Ignoring the Necron Lord, I asked: "Am I going to destroy the galaxy?"

"Possibly. You would be powerful enough to do it, were you so inclined, even if I cannot envision a scenario where you would want to do it. However, her vision is not what concerns me. Her Craftworld is."

"How so?" I asked. I let Taldeer in because that'd keep the Eldar of my back. I really didn't need more interference.

"It seems the Seer Council of Ulthwé wants her to come home. They…seem to think her project is too dangerous to continue. In addition, they are convinced there is a great Doom on the horizon and they want her on the craftworld when that happens. Taldeer says that they have been seeing the coming apocalypse for centuries and that her efforts should make it less likely, not more. The Seer Council, however, has been adamant: you are too dangerous to work with."

"Or they have lost faith in her and her visions. Apparently, the Seer Council sees Taldeer as a bit of a rogue. At least, that is what Taldeer believes." Sekhareth added, much to our astonishment. "What? So I can speak a smattering of Eldar. Is that truly so surprising?"

"In hindsight, probably not." I replied, sighing. I looked at the video. While I couldn't understand what was being said, a lot could be inferred. Taldeer had an opinion. Mohannis and Curon were trying to talk her out of it, and Larrissa was playing peacemaker. Seeing them argue like this did not fill me with confidence. "Is there any chance that they're faking this?"

"Possible, but unlikely. Taldeer might have the self-control to fake an argument like this, but the other three… No, this is real and you were not meant to see this."

Wonderful. "So what is her project? Why is she really here?"

Orkanis replayed the video. "As far as I can tell, stopping you from going mad and setting the galaxy on fire. Apparently her visions have convinced her that you will unleash destruction on a galactic scale at some point in the future. But that does not explain why she did not simply kill you when she had the chance. There must be something more…"

"The tomb worlds?" I asked. Maybe the Necrons would release something worse than… On reflection, what could possibly be worse than an omnicidal commander and galactic genocide?

The Necron Lord shook his head. "Politics and pride. Taldeer's visions are her whole existence and the source of her power. Now her visions are being called into question. Judging by her tone, not for the first time. If she were to kill you and return to Ulthwé, she would effectively admit to her own fallibility and prove her detractors right. A public humiliation. One that would end her political career. No, I think she will stay her course, wherever that may lead."

The wraithseer lowered his head. "As much as I would like to say you are wrong…I cannot deny that your idea has merit. That said, Taldeer does not seem like the sort who would defy her peers and risk her life for her pride alone. For all her faults, she genuinely cares for her people and wants to assist in whatever way she can. Whatever her design, she legitimately believes that she is in the right."

"Which makes her even more dangerous." I sighed. What was going on in that pretty little head of hers? "Well, I already knew there was more going on than she was telling me. Let's keep this between us for the moment. So long as they think I can't understand them, there's a chance they'll slip up again. Whatever Taldeer's planning…"

"It must be risky, if she is willing to go this far to see it through. Perhaps removing her from the ship was not such a terrible idea after all."

"You think that'll stop her?"

"No. No, I fear it will not." Orkanis admitted. "I…dislike this affair, Commander. Deceiving your allies is a sure way of losing them."

"That goes both ways, Orkanis. I've been a lot more forthcoming than most would be. If Taldeer isn't telling me everything, she's got no right to complain when I go behind her back."

"Dangerous thinking."

"But not wrong. You've said it yourself: she's a threat, and not just to me. I don't want her getting us all killed, thank you very much." Or worse. Me going full supervillain and annihilating all life in the galaxy wasn't that farfetched in a universe populated almost entirely by assholes. Wiping out all intelligent life and then going into stasis for a few million years would, theoretically, be a way to deal with Chaos…but it would also be monstrous.

And yet…I could do it. In less than two weeks, I've established colonies in over a dozen systems. If I really wanted to, I could probably have four times that number another month from now. After that, my growth rate would probably slow as my FTL technology seriously bottlenecked expansion, but if I managed to survive a few hundred years or so…

The Imperium of Man might contain a million worlds, but there are more than a hundred billion stars in the galaxy. That's a lot of space. And a lot of potential killbots. The only thing stopping me from fulfilling Taldeer's prophecy was my sense of morality, but I wasn't arrogant enough to think that that couldn't change.

Or be changed.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Mohannis told one of my bots that he and Taldeer wanted to discuss our next destination. I nodded and went on to tell General Alexander, who hurriedly put on his coat and called Commissar Gebbit, and the golden oldies. Rather than having our meeting in the kitchen, I decided to have this sort of thing at the bridge. It'd feel more official, kept a clearer line between business and pleasure, and let me show off my shiny new chair. Quickly, I created a table and six additional seats in front of the throne and waited for my guests to arrive.

Orkanis and Sekhareth were the first. When the wraithseer looked at my throne, he tilted his head and I could feel that he was judging me. Ignoring the rather uncomfortable stare, I simply sat back as if I and the Iron Throne belonged here. Finally, Orkanis nodded and took a seat to my immediate right. If this was some sort of test, I was reasonably sure that I passed it. Sekhareth, for his part, sat at the other side of the table, towards the bottom end.

Then Taldeer and Mohannis arrived and took the two remaining spots on the right. The Farseer shot a slightly irritated look at Orkanis, who simply looked back as if he had no idea what the woman could be upset about. Eventually, the two simply took their seats without any hassle, aside from Mohannis trying not to make eye contact with the Necron Lord.

Finally, Alexander and Gebbit showed up. They took one look around and I could see that a switch flipped in their heads. Suddenly, they stood up a little straighter and a little less at ease. Politely, they bowed, wordlessly asking for a seat rather than simply taking one. I nodded back and held out my hand to the two unoccupied chairs. They sat down without a word, politely greeting everyone else. Even Sekhareth, which surprised me. The humans did not get along with the Necron Lord. Then again, no one aside from Orkanis did.

"Well, then." I began. "Now that we're all here…Farseer Taldeer, you said you had a destination in mind."

"That I do." The Farseer replied, any animosity for myself and everyone on this ship hidden under a mask of calm. "As you know, I have spent the past week looking for a suitable tomb world to assault." She shot a quick glance at the Necron Lord, but Sekhareth simply looked on, appearing interested. "My search appears to have been successful: I found a small necropolis that is undergoing reactivation. If we strike quickly, we can destroy it with relative ease."

"And where is this necropolis located?"

"The planet's Imperial designation is Kaurava III."

My fingers clenched slightly. I knew that name. I loathed that name. Memories of terrible voice acting, murderously difficult yet easily cheeseable base assaults, and endless choruses of 'SPESS MARINES' and 'METAL BAWKSES' flooded my mind. Not Kaurava. Anything but Kaurava.

"The Kaurava system has a tomb world?" Alexander asked. To clarify, he added: "It's a system on the Tau border. Nothing truly noteworthy, as far as I know. The aliens have tried to get their hands on in for quite some time now, so Segmentum command stationed four regiments of guardsmen to protect it. That, and it has a recurring Ork problem that the local defenders have never quite managed to stamp out. But a tomb world? Someone would have noticed."

"Most of Kaurava III is a desert of little value and the necropolis is…was buried deep below the surface. It is not that surprising that your people have overlooked it."

"Give us some credit, Farseer. We are not completely blind."

"We shall see, my good general. We shall see." The woman replied, preening. Sensing my hesitation, she continued: "If the artifacts alone are not enough to convince you, commander, then you should think what would happen to the local human population should the necropolis awaken in full."

Oh, she did not just do that. She did not just appeal to push my Chronic Hero Syndrome buttons. Ah, hell, she did. "Okay, so we have Necrons, Orks, and guardsmen. What else?"

"The Orks should be contained and I am fairly confident that General Alexander can persuade his comrades not to interfere. The Necrontyr should be your only problem."

With my luck? Fat chance. "So…nothing else…"

"No."

"No Warp storms…"

"No."

"No Tau…"

"No…"

"No Eldar…"

"Not that I am aware off, but if there are, they might be of assistance." Taldeer rubbed her forehead. It seems I was irritating her…again.

"No Sisters of Battle or Space Marines with a speech impediment…"

"Do you know something we do not?!" The Farseer finally snapped back. If only she knew…

"Just trying to be prepared here. People with speech impediments really annoy me. Wouldn't be the first time someone deliberately tried to make me lose my temper. With Space Marines, a mistake like that can cost you your head."

"Well, I suppose you are an expert on annoyances." She shot back, sighing deeply. "I will concede that it is not impossible for a Warp storm to appear in the time it takes to get to the Kaurava system. I have not foreseen one, but those things can, on rare occasions, come with little warning. However, the probability of that happening is beyond negligible. I chose that system because it is mostly peaceful and so that you can focus your full attention on our true foe…unless someone does something unexpected again." Taldeer shot a glare at the Necron Lord, who had been sitting quietly in his corner.

"Assuming I will attempt to sabotage your well-laid plans, Lady Farseer?" Sekhareth asked, innocently.

"The thought has crossed my mind."

"Hmm…Well, I suppose I can cause a great deal of harm in the two nanoseconds it would take for the commander to shut my body down. Perhaps I shall lie down in a crowded hallway and hope someone will break his neck tripping over me." Geez, bitter much.

"The Overlord of Kaurava is your direct superior, is he not?"

"A direct superior who sent me to a desolate outpost on the edge of the galaxy, with no hope for glory or advancement." Sekhareth shot back. He sounded resentful. Something I might be able to exploit later on. "Besides, if he falls to the good commander, my shame will become his and perhaps this indignity will become slightly more bearable."

"Your loyalty to your people does you credit, Necron Lord." Commissar Gebbit muttered, honestly looking shocked.

The Necron Lord simply chuckled. "I live to serve, little commissar."

"Do not mock me, machine."

"I am trying. And I am failing. And terribly sorry for that. But do remember that Orkanis is not the only one abandoned by his kin. Loyalty must go both ways."

"Duty is its own reward."

"So says the menial to the fallen lord."

I slammed my fist on the table. It came down with a harsh, metallic clang. "That's quite enough, both of you. Lord Sekhareth, if you want me to shame your old boss, then I'd like to know what kind of defenses I'd run into."

"I am afraid I cannot say. Overlord Imotera hid a great deal from me, presumably so that I would think twice before instigating a betrayal. Even if I knew, much has changed in sixty million years. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. That said, the Kauravan house is a worthy one. Worthy enough to attract the services of a cryptek."

Oh, interesting. In both the regular and the Chinese sense. I leaned back, thinking.

General Alexander raised his hand. "That's the Necron equivalent of a Techpriest, right?"

"Indeed."

"Which makes Kaurava an excellent opportunity for some dynamic aquisitions, assuming nothing horrible happens…" I added. Never have thought I'd say those words…

"You seem rather confident in your victory, commander." Sekhareth said. "Need I say that any cryptek worthy of the name would be able to counter your nanomachine weapon with little difficulty?"

"Good thing that I have more strings to my bow, then. Besides, Kaurava's necropolis isn't underground. It's on the surface where I can hit it with orbital fire, asteroid warfare, and all manner of WMD's. I'll have plenty of stuff to shove down their metallic throats. Dark Age humanity really liked their giant guns…" I shook my head. Bad Commander Black! Good guys don't throw nukes around like confetti. Unless they're fighting Chaos. Besides, I needed the shinies intact. As resilient as the Necron's technology is, I was very good at breaking things and didn't want to test my luck. "Once again, assuming that nothing horrible happens." I shot a glance at the Farseer, who sighed in response.

"It is good to know that you have such faith in my abilities…" The woman complained. Part of me wondered if I was being too harsh. Then I remembered she's a Farseer and was about to steer me into a Warp storm, so fuck that.

Unless my existence somehow butterflied the Warp storm away…

Oh, who am I kidding. Of course it wouldn't!

--

Ah, Taldeer. In hindsight, I should have been nicer to her. She…she didn't deserve what I've put her through. No…well…you know how you can be a dick to someone who really deserves it, but you still feel kind of bad about it later…

Well, no, of course you wouldn't.

At any rate, with everyone on the same page and having established some sort of working relationship with my guests (albeit a somewhat dysfunctional one in some cases), we could finally get this show on the road.

Which led to my next challenge: Finding a way to entertain my guests for the three weeks it took to get to the bloody Kaurava system. And keep them from killing each other.

My first Warp jump had been an exercise in combating boredom. With Orkanis putting himself to sleep to ward off the daemons, I was completely alone for the journey. At least that problem had been solved now, albeit replaced with another one.

Namely, people complaining about my driving…

--

There were moments where I cursed my omnipresence through the ship. Moments where I really wished that I couldn't see or hear something. Like the sound of a psyker dry-heaving.

I knocked on the door of Ozman's room and stepped through when no one replied. For a second, I feared the worst. Then I saw the psyker hung over the toilet, trying to puke his guts out. I couldn't help but pity him as he stared at me with his empty eye-sockets.

"You are…by far…the worst pilot I have ever met." He stammered, before coughing up another piece of his breakfast. Larrissa worked really hard on that too…

And yes, the idea of Imperials eating food prepared by an Eldar was a surprise to me as much as anyone. While not quite hostile, the two groups did their best to pretend the other didn't exist at first. Larrissa had been the odd exception, her curiosity about the humans winning out over her bigotry. She often offered them food or tea and bugged them with incessant questions about life, the universe, and everything, in an effort to get the Imperials to open up to each other, but it had been slow going and led to a great deal of awkwardness for all parties involved. It had been Commissar Gebbit, of all people, that had broken the ice by taking an offered cup of tea and saying: 'There, the commissar has given you permission. Now no one has to be afraid of getting shot for consorting with Xenos and we can all stop this idiocy.'

It wasn't peace, by any stretch of the imagination. Just a temporary ceasefire due to their host's unwillingness to get an additional kitchen.

Unfortunately, none of this helped Ozman all that much, but that wouldn't stop me from trying. "Yeah, apparently we're travelling through some space turbulence. Or something. The Warp…doesn't make a lot of sense to me. I have some Warp sickness pills from the Blood Raven's medical bay, if you want…"

There were pills for this sort of thing, if I remembered correctly, but…God, I really need to plough through the medical tomes. Alexander hadn't thought to bring a doctor, after all.

Ozman laughed, sounding more than a little unhinged. "Pills? You think this is going to go away with a few pills?!"

"Maybe? It might help. Orkanis mentioned that the daemons are throwing themselves at my ship and splattering on the Gellar Field. Don't know much about that, but maybe…"

"Orkanis couldn't tell a ritual circle from his own ass." He scoffed. "They aren't throwing themselves at the ship, Black. They're…they're…" Another dry-heave. "Gellar Fields don't splatter daemons, and they certainly don't attract them, at least any more than Warp travel normally does. The daemons…they're being pulled in. Pulled in and ripped apart by…something or another. Don't know how you're doing it…I think it's the power plant in the back…but, yeah, fun times for the mutant."

If I had a mouth, it would have dropped right now. "Ozman, are you telling me that my ship is powered by pulped corpses of the Legions of Hell as they're being fed into a cosmic wood chipper?"

The psyker nodded softly. "That would be a rather graphic way of putting it…but not incorrect, I suppose."

An image formed in my mind. An image of what the Litany of Fury might look like from the outside: a massive cathedral-ship, surfing on the corpses of a trillion dead horrors as it sails through Hell, on its way to do battle with an army of undead robots. "That is metal as fuck!" I all but squealed.

Ozman did not approve. "Your sympathy is a wondrous thing."

And now I felt like a jerk. "Ah…um, you still want those pills?"

"No." He coughed. "It will pass. Just a temporary mess of inclement weather. I am a Sanctioned Psyker Primaris of the Imperial Guard. My gift is my burden, and I will carry it with grace and…" He never finished his sentence. I let him go and…well, vomit in peace. I briefly toyed with the idea of asking the Eldar for help (they seemed to be doing fine…after the seers sang a dozen or so runestones into place), but dropped it almost immediately. Breakfast was one thing, but Ozman would probably chew his own foot off before accepting help from a xeno with this.

--

…or finding their own entertainment…

--

"Raise, three crowns."

One would think that I'd be good at poker, being a robot, and all. I mean, I don't have a face and my involuntary movements were entirely voluntary. In fact, I think I have the ultimate poker face.

"Call. Bring it on, pointy-ears."

Turns out, I was wrong. Very, very wrong.

I looked at my cards and sighed. "Fold. Good game, guys."

I guess you can't beat dumb luck. Or precognitive telepaths.

"One down, four to go. Call." Curon was enjoying himself. Maybe a little too much. I was ninety percent sure he was using his powers to cheat, but I couldn't tell for sure. Besides, it's not like I was any better: the money I used came straight out of a fabricator.

Rule Number One of Gambling: only gamble with what you can afford to lose. When you can literally print money, that's quite a bit.

"Fold." Gebbit muttered, disappointed.

"Raise, five crowns." Larrissa squeaked, clearly getting excited.

Kirnov, for his part, scoffed. "Call. You sure you wanna go this way?"

"You know she can literally read your mind, don't you?" Gebbit asked the kasrkin.

"I do not!" Larrissa immediately defended. "That's cheating. There's no fun in that."

I turned to Curon, who looked at me with a completely innocent look on his face. It made me very suspicious. Don't think I didn't spot the runestone, Curly.

"Please, she can't read me even if she wanted to." Kirnov said. "Not when I've got the perfect anti-telepath defense."

Larrissa looked up from her cards, eyes narrowed. "Do you now?"

"Wanna have a look?"

She leaned forward and tilted her head slightly. Then her eyes widened and she recoiled in horror. "Ah! Gods, you…you filthy ape!"

Kirnov winked back, which made Larrissa's blushing all the funnier. Commissar Gebbit was less amused. "I'm not sure if I should shoot you, or praise you for your diligence."

"I'd say 'praise', if it's all the same with you, sir. I'm kind off allergic to bolt rounds."

--

…while dirtying up my ship…

--

I never liked cleaning. When I was still human, cleaning my house was one of those little annoyances in life. Even living alone, dust still got everywhere and having to clean seemed like mopping the floor under a leaking shower.

Fortunately, being a robot, I didn't have to worry about anymore…at first. Then came my uninvited guests, who seemed intent on polluting my nice, clean floor with their filthy meatbag bodies. So I had to start cleaning. Again.

Enter: the Roomba.

Those lovable disk-shaped cleaning bots made their return in the forty-first millennium, complete with a tech-overhaul. Instead of driving over the floor, they hovered a few millimeters above it thanks to a miniature anti-grav unit. Instead of sucking up dirt, they had a small reclamation unit that destroyed all the grime, hairs, and dead skin cells that the organics seemed to shed by the truckload.

The upside of all this organic filth was the free opportunity for science. For instance: Eldar really do have triple-helix DNA. Okay, not really because, as anyone with even the slightest background in biochemistry can tell you that triple-helix DNA is chemically impossible, but something very close. The Eldar have your bog-standard double-helix, but also a third strand that is sort of joined, or rather associated, with it. This third strand, consisting of nucleotide-like molecules, seemed to stabilize the other two and prevent rampant mutation. Apparently, the Eldar body is so fine-tuned and specialized that almost any mutation, no matter how small, can lead to death. In nature, such a system would be completely inviable, but the Old Ones could cheat.

It explained a lot of things, like why the Eldar species still looks the same after sixty million years. It also explained…

Oh, god, what's Vacille doing with the Roombas this time?

The enormous Magos, moving far more quietly than her form should allow, prowled through the ship. Her quarry: an unfortunate Roomba, diligently cleaning the alley behind the Magos's makeshift workshop.

Did I say 'workshop'? I meant: consecrated ceremonial chamber, blessed by sacraments to the Machine God. Because cogboys…coggirls…who cares, she probably replaced the interesting bits with a toaster or something. It was a peace offer after I refused to let her look at my code. That and to keep her busy so she didn't try to do something too horrible.

Anyway, back to our nature video: Vacille, chasing after my cleaning bots. Not much of a chase, since Roombas have the survival instincts of a suicidal lemming, but still a chase. The Magos snuck closed until she got to about a meter away, carefully making sure she didn't 'disturb' the blind, deaf, and really dumb little robot. Suddenly, a mechadendrite appeared from under her robe and grabbed the unfortunate bot, disabling it with an electric current. Then she grabbed it and took it back to her workshop, carefully peeling it apart with a buzzing swarm of mechadendrites and incorporating it into her latest project: some kind of modification on my power plants. She promised that she could make them a lot more efficient, so I let her do her thing and watched. Unfortunately, she needed a lot of highly specific parts to build her device.

Why she didnt simply ask for the parts she needed, Id never understand.

A few minutes later, the Roomba had been completely cannibalized, so Vacille went out hunting…again. Okay, this was getting ridiculous. EducationalTrolling.exe activated.

The Magos closed in on another bot, but this time, the bot turned around and 'noticed' her. Immediately, it started bouncing up and down, emitting a loud, squeaky sound and jumping away like a panicked animal. After only a moment's surprise, Vacille followed, pulling a laspistol from her belt. I led her on a chase through the corridor until she ended up in a dark, unused room. She entered and I could see the wheels in her head turn as she realized she made a mistake.

In the center of the room stood the Roomba, staring at here. Then the lights flickered, revealing more Roombas until there were about fifty of them, all humming ominously. It looked like a scene from a horror movie. At this point, I'd expected that Vacille would either back off slowly or call me out on my bullshit. Instead, a dozen mecadendrites flowed out of her robe, each tipped with a different weapon or tool. She stood up straight, waving them around menacingly.

Okay, this has gone on long enough.

Suddenly, the lights turned back on. "Vacille, what the hell?"

"I believe these devices have gone feral." She answered, dead serious. "It appears they have developed limited intelligence. At least enough to perform crude ambush tactics." If I had a head, I'd be slamming it on my desk right now. Oh wait, I do have a head.

In the kitchen, a bot slammed its head on the counter, much to the surprise of everyone present.

"Magos, that's me." I said, trying my best to stay calm. "They have no intelligence or the hardware to support one if they did. You should know that: you've pulled a dozen of them apart this week alone."

"I…oh." Slowly, she lowered her laspistol. "Why?"

"To get you to answer a…no two questions. First: if you need parts, why don't you just ask? We have fabbers everywhere. I can print whatever you need."

She lowered her head slightly. I could only imagine she was looking sheepish. Hard to tell when she didn't really have a face left. "I have learned from experience that it is unwise to bother a ship's captain. If you want something, you go get it yourself. Since you do not seem to have any menials…"

"Unlimited parallel processing power. I can do several things at once. Just ask next time, okay? Those floors aren't going to clean themselves." An innocent enough reason, I suppose. "Second question: why are you armed and why are you assuming the fucking Roombas are trying to kill you?"

"It wouldn't be the first time I have been savaged by cleaning equipment."

"You're shitting me."

"No, I am not. Most forge worlds use servitors for such menial tasks. Unfortunately, they aren't always programmed as well as they should and have difficulty telling dust apart from stray acolytes. I learned early on that all technology can be dangerous and that few machines carry no secrets. One must always assume the worst."

My brain stopped for a second as I tried to process that. "How in the name of holy fucknuggets do you people get anything done?"

"Through patience, caution, and understanding that no machine is inherently good or evil as a human might understand it." The Magos said, her voice completely level. Calmly, she walked back to her workshop. "Machine Spirits are more than a mere expert system. They have their own sense of morality, and an often inscrutably alien one at that. Making any assumptions on what a machine will or will not do has led many an acolyte to an early grave."

"Except there aren't any Machine Spirits here, mostly because of the reasons you just mentioned. I like my bots to be predictable and do what I need them to, not go of the reservation at the drop of a hat. That, and they're grotesque."

"I see." She replied, seemingly lowering her head in disappointment. Then she went back into 'techpriest mode' and rattled off a list of supplies and specs for the parts she needed. By the time the Magos got back to her workshop, the fabricators had finished most of them. With practiced grace and binary chanting, she started putting the various pieces together and finished her…

"So…I should probably have asked this before, but what exactly are you building again?"

Looking up from her work, she said: "A tunable version of your null engine. I admit this is quite exciting; I'd never have believed that I'd get the opportunity to dismantle such an arcane device. They are beyond rare; even the forge-world where I was born had only one and it was the Fabricator-General's most prized possession." Vacille closed the panels up started testing the device. "For years, I've always wondered how these things worked. It seems impossible: creating energy without burning fuel. It violates one of the most basic of scientific laws: the Law of Conservation of Energy. Something that should be utterly impossible…something that is impossible."

"So how does that explain psykers?"

"The Materium is not a closed system. Psykers still have an energy source for their abilities in the form of the Warp. As does this machine, incidentally."

Suddenly, I felt like I'd been slapped in the face. The null engine is powered by the Warp. The power plant used in every single thing I've built is powered by the fucking Warp. "The Warp…"

"Of course, the next question would be: why haven't these devices been corrupted already?" Vacille continued, growing more and more excited. "That's the beauty of it: while it pulls power from the Warp, it casts most of its energy back into it, albeit in a different form. Think of it this way: imagine a ship on a sea being attacked by predatory fish. It powers itself by pulling in water (which draws the fish towards it), but as a side effect, excess water is vented back into the sea as scalding hot steam. Any fish that tries to attack the ship will be boiled to death and as such you never have to worry about your ship being harassed by them. It's…it's brilliant!"

"It's insane. Using Hell as a power source…I've seen that movie. It ends with space marines shooting a giant cyborg spider in the balls with a lighting gun."

The Magos tilted her head. "You have a strange leaning towards the nonsensical. Are you sure you are not a Machine Spirit?"

"I'm being serious here. How is this thing not stupidly dangerous?"

"You mean as dangerous as a fusion reactor, which is a continuously exploding thermonuclear bomb? Or as dangerous as a plasma reactor, which is essentially a miniature star? Or perhaps the Warp drive itself, which tears holes in the veil between realities but has yet to end all creation? Let me put it this way, commander: considering the pervasiveness of these devices in your army and the sheer amount of energy you consume, if there was any chance that these devices would open the door for whatever entities lie beyond, they would have devoured you already."

"That…makes me feel…better?"

"Since there are no less than six highly capable psykers on this vessel and none of them have raised any concerns over these devices, I believe we can consider these devices mostly safe. The Warp itself is not dangerous; the entities within are and the device chases them away as a side effect of its function. Which leads me to the reason I built the device in front of us. Originally, I intended to make the reactor produce more power by reducing the amount of energy refluxed back into the Warp."

"Less steam, but more power, to use your previous example."

"Yes, but then I realized that such a thing wouldn't be safe to use, so I decided to do the exact opposite: I tried to create a new pattern of null engine that funnels a far greater share of its power back into the Warp. In fact, if the device works as I think it does, it should create a small area around itself where daemons won't be able to exist. It might even disrupt daemons that have already crossed into the material realm, effectively turning a power plant into a potent anti-daemonic weapon!"

"So…something that creates a shadow in the Warp?"

"Yes! I…oh."

"Yeah." I sighed as much as I liked the idea… "I'm never going to lose the Tyranid comparison, am I?"

"Well, have you ever heard of a Tyranid falling to Chaos?"

"Good point."

I could only imagine her snicker. "Well, then. Let's see what happens…" Before I could object, she pressed a button on the side and the device started humming. A few seconds ticked by and nothing horrible happened. Then every psyker on the ship clutched their heads.

Mental note to self: Watch Vacille more closely. This was exactly the kind of situation I was hoping to avoid.

"So far, so good." The Magos said, taking readings from the device. "No containment breaches, and the Gellar Field is completely unaffected, as I calculated. And the Warp…I am no psyker, but these readings make it look…stilled…which is…good, I think."

"Umm, Vacille, did you realize that the Tyranids' 'shadow in the Warp' thing also messes up regular psykers?"

"It does? That…actually doesn't sound implausible, considering that the power of psykers works on similar princi…oh…OH."

Suddenly, Ozman barged through the door, shivering like a reed. Barely contained fury boiled beneath his empty eye sockets and he was clutching a laspistol menacingly. Behind him stood Commissar Gebbit with a hand on his gun. I wasn't sure if he was going to shoot Ozman, Vacille, or both. With Ozman, though…there was no doubt.

"Turn…turn that off." The psyker stammered. "Turn that off right now!"

"It works on psykers too! This is perfect!" Vacille squealed, seemingly unaware of Ozman's suffering. "The Inquisition was hoping I'd find some sort of anti-warp tool since our Age-of-Technology-era ancestors didn't have wards and seals like we do today. This…this must be what they're looking for. Can you imagine what an Inquisitorial strike team equipped with this technology could do? Chaos cults, unsanctioned psykers, even full-scale daemonic incursions… We'd be unstoppable!"

Then, as if on cue, Ozman fired at the device with his pistol. Sparks flew out of the machine and, with a sad whine, it died. Immediately, Ozman sighed, looking like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He turned around and walked away. Elsewhere, the Eldar seemed to relax as well.

"Unless the bad guys have guns." I added, dryly. "Then we're boned."

"I still have the plans." The Magos whispered. "I am going to perfect this, design a production model, everything. They won't know what hit them."

I sighed. It's like arguing with a child. "Fine, but no more prototype arcanotech until we figure out a way to test them safely." Vacille tried to object, but I wasn't going to budge on this. "I don't want to see Ozman beating you to death with your own soul. The Mechanicus is probably going to blame me is something happens to you. No arcanotech."

She even had the audacity to give me the 'you kicked my puppy' look.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Ozman crashed into a chair. General Alexander tossed him a bottle of something that was probably alcoholic. The psyker took a deep swig and coughed.

"Commander…" Mohannis asked, looking up from his book. "Have we recruited a Tyranid?"

I blinked. "What? No, that's just the Techpriest messing around. Did you seriously think I'm going to let a Tyranid on the ship?"

"You don't want him to answer that question." Ozman rasped.

Seriously, fuck these guys.

--

Just…people. Can't stand them, can't live without them. I mean, I even got the Imperials a gym.

But, eventually, we made it, alive and well. Right in time for Judgement Day.

--

Three weeks after our journey started, we arrived at the edge of the Kaurava system. Only twelve hours later and two astronomical units away from what I'd calculated and with everyone alive and well. I was getting pretty good at this Warp travel thing!

Also like planned: a system in utter chaos, both of the lower-case and upper-case variety. Since I vaguely remembered where the various powers were located, finding the source of the troubles was rather easy with a telescope and a half-decent augur array.

First off: giant fuck-off Warp storm. Chaos, check.

Lands of Solitude…actually living up to its name. No SPESS MARINES, then. Except they were the last to arrive in canon, so that might change in the future. Hopefully not. Indrick Boreale's accent stops being funny very fast.

A fleet of white-and-black ships with red lining and rosette insignias. Sisters of Battle, check.

A fortress with a small handful of Imperial Navy vessels hanging overhead. Imperial Guard, or what's left of them, check.

An army of fucking weeaboos with their giant, nonsensium cannon that's horribly OP but everyone forgets about after this stupid game. Tau, check.

Orks, orks, and more orks, check. Oh, maybe I'd see Gorgutz 'ead'unter again. I promised him a round 2 and I do consider myself a bot of my word.

A monstrously large necropolis. Much larger than it looked in-game. Necrons, check.

And finally, a handful of Eldar structures not far from said necropolis. Colors seemed to suggest they're from craftworld Ulthwé. Eldar, check.

No sign of the Dark Eldar. Maybe they'd have enough sense to nope the hell out of this mess. Or they're just really good at hiding. Given my luck, probably the latter.

Meanwhile, the gang and I sat on the bridge, staring at the holographic map as my sensors mapped out the armies, fleets, and battlefields before us. There was utter silence, safe for the soft hum of the projector and the rhythmic tapping of my finger on the Iron Throne.

Taldeer stayed completely silent, probably thanks to having an agri-world's worth of egg on her face. She started glaring at me and my finger, wordlessly begging me to stop.

Finally, I broke the silence by exclaiming: "Well, someone pick up that phone, 'cause I fucking called it!" An instant later, my head exploded, disintegrating into a fine mist. The only sign of the culprit was Taldeer's furious glare and the softly glowing runestone in her hand. "I deserved that" The now headless bot said "but this isn't the time to lose your head."

The Farseer looked like she was moments from ripping the ship in half with her mind, before taking a deep breath and calming herself. "Perhaps our time would be better spent discussing strategy instead of finding new ways to test my patience."

"I agree." Alexander said, trying to play peacemaker. "I suggest we make contact with the Imperial Guard regiments first. They could watch our flanks while you deal with the Necrons. The Sisters of Battle might be of help too."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves…"

"If I hear any more 'head' puns, I will strangle you." Orkanis warned. Still cranky from Warp travel, it seems.

"I'm a robot."

"That has not stopped me before."

Well, that's not ominous at all. Moving on, I continued: "Right. Anyway, before we do anything, I want a strong powerbase first. With the system in chaos, I doubt there is much of the Guard left. Four complete regiments wouldn't have let things get this bad. Also, Sisters of Battle, working with an Abominable Intelligence? They're more likely to set me on fire than help me out. With my luck, I'll probably have to kill them at some point. Besides, attacking a Necron stronghold of that size is a marathon, not a sprint."

Alexander frowned, but he wasn't denying anything. Sometimes, I just hated being right about the people around here.

"As for the Eldar…"

"We have been in the Warp for three weeks, Commander, and Ulthwé does not sit still when the threat of the Necrontyr looms. They would not have been able to inform me of recent developments yet." Taldeer reassured. She might have been convincing if it hadn't been from what I heard earlier. Right now…I wasn't sure what to think. As far as I could tell, their arrival was more a surprise to Taldeer than it was to me. "In all likelihood, my peers believe that your previous success is a fluke and wish to ensure the necropolis' destruction. In person, if necessary." Or they don't trust you and think I turn into Mecha-Horus at some point.

"I suppose that is a reasonable explanation." I said, noncommittally. I doubted that its true meaning went over her head. "Can you get in contact with them? If nothing else, their base of operations would make an excellent staging ground. That and I might need a few psykers to deal with any errant godlings the Necrons might throw at me." And I didn't want the Eldar to get in my way, especially since they were being led by another Farseer, if I remembered correctly. One with a really boring and annoying voice.

Just like everyone else in Soulstorm. Seriously, the voice actors were really phoning it in. Or horribly miscasted.

"Alright. Better get to work then, people. Things are only going to get worse from here on out."

--

And boy did they.

I mean, I'm not a precog, but Christ, I've made more correct predictions than Taldeer did. No, that's not fair: everything she's said has come true, after all, albeit not the way she expected. That and her interpretation occasionally leaves much to be desired.

But yes, everything got worse. I suppose it's part of the course for things in the 40k universe. Fish swim, Orks fight, and no good deed goes unpunished.

It's like a cosmic law.