Manric thoughtfully examined a three-dimensional map of the region on his bridge.
For those who had never left their planets and ventured into space, the universe could be a bit confusing. That was mainly because three-dimensional hologram images of the galaxy were somewhat rare… much higher technology than a flat image, and if someone was not seriously going to travel, what need did they have of that? In fact, what need did any travellers even have? They were not Navigators, nor naval commanders. What need did they have of the information?
But when you used a flat map, you didn't appreciate the true scope and depth of the galaxy. It wasn't a flat plane; it was up and down. Stars drifted, most solo but others in clumps and clusters. The middle, thicker band of stars but stragglers going in every direction, this way and that.
That made planning a route like the one Manric was following somewhat challenging. He'd set in a tentative path before he left, working with Zahndrekh, but it was very tentative… needs could change. Fortunately they'd been in contact with a Charnovokh communication relay when a message from the Stormlord had popped through… Phaeron Rahkaak had lost contact with a scout ship in the space they were investigating. The ship had reported a fertile world and given a preliminary report of great adamantium deposits, then fallen silent. Manric was asked to see what had happened.
"These scout ships…" Manric muttered to himself as he considered how to incorporate the planet in his circuit. It was far up on the galactic plane, brushing the ceiling of the galaxy. Almost as remote as Hope, thanks to that extreme galactic floating… Hope itself was the opposite, drifting towards the bottom of the galaxy. "They go so far from home." It had been assigned a portion of the galaxy in the upper ranges, Manric knew. He thought it was a very daunting duty, travelling with just a few friends in a fast but defenseless vessel. Yet, Hope always found people willing to do it.
"How will we reach that damned thing and keep the rest of our circuit and our schedule? Something has to give," Ahmakeph said and Manric focused on the other two Overlords present. He'd summoned Ahmakeph, as the closest to Zahndrekh, and Tadutep, as the best with Naval matters.
"Probably our schedule, but I'm hoping we can tighten this up as much as possible. We need to make sacrifices off the circuit too," Manric said, focusing on Ahmakeph. "What do you think of this?" He showed his new, proposed route and Tadutep had an immediate objection.
"We'll need to refuel, were you thinking that nebula?" Yes, it had been his thought. "That's an unstable one, we Charnovokh had a warning tag on it. I would go for that star cluster instead." Tadutep adjusted the route as Ahmakeph made a soft hmph sound.
"We would be skipping that fringe world they asked us to look at it. You think they can get to it themselves?" he asked and Manric nodded.
"That was my hope." Charnovokh was a bit crippled, but they did have their own forces and this matter really needed attention. If the adamantium was as reported, it was very valuable. Manric thought about it a moment… Adamantium was not exactly rare, more common than gold and silver yet rarer than base metals. Yet what made it so desirable was the supreme versatility… combat technology of all known races used it, the Living Metal used it, the gauss flayers, everything. And even civilian technology used it, which was why trade in it was allowed if limited… the entire galaxy loved adamantium. Manric knew that some planets, particularly poor in it, would carefully recycle the smallest scrap of it from used up technology.
The reason a deposit like this was valuable, though, was not just the weight of the adamantium but also the ease of extraction. Small deposits tended to be difficult, requiring sifting and chemical extraction from masses of ore. Large ones like this, though, were so much purer and easy to remove. Still intensive, but a valuable resource indeed. Valhalla hosted deposits just like this.
After a bit of work, they adjusted the route and schedule sufficiently. This was going to take longer than projected, but Zahndrekh would understand… Manric was sure Imotekh had already warned him. Manric sent a message to Imotekh and also the Charnovokh directly, that they would be forced to skip that particular fringeworld. He got a quick blip of acknowledgement from Imotekh, which was all the permission he needed. If the Charnovokh had a problem with the change, they could take it up with the Stormlord.
That decided, they set out on their new course. It would still take some time to reach the little planet, but they would get there in time.
I loathe him. I loathe him with every fibre of my being.
Xahkephra, warrior princess of the once-great Dynasty of Khatekh, silently glared at her captor's back with undisguised contempt. He had dragged her to the surface of the world, to 'enjoy the sights'. In actuality, he just wanted to show her the fruits of his sadism. Nasamehyt did not even have the decency to hate organics, like the Destroyers. He simply found delight in destruction, pleasure in pain. It did not matter if it was pulpy organic matter on his foot or the reactor fuel of another necron. It was all the same to him.
Xahkephra knew that intimately and a small jolt of pain hit her core at the thought. Her entire family was dead, or worse than dead, enslaved as she was enslaved. Khatekh had always been on unfriendly terms with Maynarkh, but they had both served the Silent King in their own way and infighting had been forbidden. They had even fought side by side in the War in Heaven, putting aside their differences. Xahkephra had truly thought they would just go on so, cordially disliking each other to the end of time.
She could not have been more wrong. Awakening early from their long slumber and protected by the Silent King's efforts, the Maynarkh had decided to even a score. It was clever of them, in a way… Szarekh would not be pleased, but it was easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission and with the unity of their species so broken, the Silent King would have no choice but to forgive. So Maynarkh had attacked them without the courtesies of honorable war, while the Khatekh Dynasty was still groggy and awakening.
They really hadn't had a chance, but despite that they had fought well and tenaciously. Xahkephra was the rarest of things, a female warrior with genuinely great skill in both combat and strategy. She had led the forces that had given the Maynarkh several stinging defeats, before they were finally cornered and overwhelmed. Xahkephra had fought to the end and expected to taste true death.
That hadn't happened, as Nasamehyt prevented her final end and took her to be his latest toy. His torture of her was erratic… it depended on his mood and what was distracting him at the moment. Also, he sometimes took other toys, mostly organics that he broke in short order. But for her, that was a reprieve.
Still, that left her being tortured quite a lot of the time. Xahkephra hated the pain, but was getting used to it. That wasn't a good thing, she knew… it felt like she was giving in, resigning herself to her current existence. And that was simply unacceptable. She needed to stay strong, needed to find a path to freedom.
"Look." Nasamehyt grasped her head and Xahkephra internally cringed at the feeling of his fingers and the way they sank a little into the Living Metal. What had they done to her body? A necron shouldn't be… yielding in texture. She was honestly a touch astonished that he could bring himself to touch her, but then, he had done this. Then her feelings shifted dramatically to disgust as she saw what was happening.
This planet had sentient life. Xahkephra knew that now, because she was looking at it… bipedal, humanoid green aliens that were making sharp, whistling sounds of distress. Screams, actually, and understandably so as they were being slowly torn apart. Like vicious children at play, two of the Immortals were letting them try to escape and catching them, pulling bits of them off at every turn. A few Overlords were watching and laughing, harsh mechanical sounds that made Xahkephra want to kill them.
"Why do you do this just kill them…" Although they would not survive this treatment for long. Still, why? Xahkephra found the Destroyers so much easier to understand than most of the Maynarkh… like most of her kind, she found flesh rather repulsive. It was easy to understand the disgust that distorted Destroyer's engrams, leading to their insane compulsions. This was simply… wrong. Nasamehyt made glyphs indicating his amusement at her ideas.
"It is what we do. You know that." Yes… she did. Xahkephra spared a moment to think of her father and hope that he had been given a swift and merciful death. Dared to hope that he was not still alive, suffering and humiliated as she was.
"I suppose you do spread your vile attentions fairly equally," Xahkephra said, even though she knew it was a mistake. Sure enough, Nasamehyt's eyes twinkled with pleasure before he activated the collar.
The pain from the collar varied. Sometimes it was sharp and stinging, other times long and burning, and sometimes simply overwhelming, tearing open all her pain receptors and allowing her to fully experience everything that had been done to her body. This was one of those times and a scream was pulled from her as she felt all the shattered endings, the weak yet burning sensation that was the lack of a necrodermis, and the horrendous pain that was the defilement of the Living Metal. Xahkephra had no description for that except pain and it was overwhelming, shattering. She could only writhe in torment, unaware of the sounds she was making.
Then it was over, the collar shutting off and Xahkephra hated the mechanical whine she made. And she hated Nasamehyt even more as he spoke.
"Your screams harmonized with theirs." May the Star Gods devour you, you piece of filth!
As she recovered from the agony, Xahkephra almost wished for the long-ago Flesh Times. She remembered… in those days, a captured female noble would be taken as a trophy and a concubine. The treatment of such prisoners could vary widely, of course, but by and large as long as a female was willing to accept her new place she was well treated. Of course, if that had happened to her, Xahkephra knew she would have been trying to rebel and escape. Yet back in those days of Flesh she had never imagined being tortured for years, her body rotting and defiled. It put things into perspective.
The little xenos had given up, no longer able to stand, just lying on the ground and making sad whimpering sounds. The Immortals only watched them as they died, not even bothering to stamp out their fading sparks. Sticky fluids fouled the earth and as Xahkephra watched, the signs of organic life, the breathing and pulses, came to an end.
"We'll have to see if we can find a few more of those." She really couldn't hate him more than she did now. It wasn't possible. Xahkephra would like Nasamehyt to die in the agony he inflicted on others, but she knew that likely wouldn't be possible, so she would be satisfied with his true death.
Anything to rid the galaxy of this trash.
Horosska was relieved to have the march to the mountains done.
The tribe's losses on the trek had been light. Two old ones and one youngling… the child was not yet dead, but she was sick and her core was hot, while her extremities were cold. Horosska was not a shaman, she did not know their bodies like Yasska, but she knew this was a bad sign. Yasska was currently trying to save the child, brewing her remedies with the dried herbs they had brought with them. Horosska thought it would be too late… the child would be another casualty of that cold, wet night that had claimed the old one.
That was very good though. They had been blessed with good weather and also with the help of the Silver People. All the food they had caught hadn't just spared their food supplies, it had kept them strong. Living on jerky was always a bit hard on them, fresh was better. Without such help, Horosska was sure the march would have claimed several more lives.
The stewed Nokosha was hot and nourishing, although the flavor left much to be desired. Intensely gamey, some of the children had to fight to choke it down. Horosska watched as Yasska and the mother of the sick child coaxed her into drinking the herbal broths. Then they very gently coaxed her into eating a few shreds of simmered meat. Eating and keeping it down, that was a good sign.
The next day, Horosska was delighted to see that she might have been wrong. The child's temperature was evening out and her eyes seemed brighter, as she drank more of the broth and ate a bit more meat. With any luck she might keep getting better. With nothing much to do, the tribe started telling stories. The best stories, though, came from Casimir… he told them about strange places he had seen, describing things peculiar and alien. Valdar was not there, he was out trying to hunt, for as long as he could until the Destroyers reached the mountains.
That night, though, Yasska made an announcement.
"Tonight, I will brew the mushroom tea. I will speak to the Maker," she said, staring at Valdar and Casimir challengingly. The two Silver People looked at each other a moment, before looking back.
"It is a good time for that," Valdar agreed and Horosska swallowed. It was easy to forget, in the relative safety of this cave, how dire their situation truly was. But it… it was a good time to ask the Maker for help. Yes, it was.
Horosska watched as Yasska brewed her mushroom drink, muttering prayers to the Maker as she worked. The mushroom tea caused strange visions when drunk, giving it a reputation as a holy thing and it was used by the shamans to unlock the secrets of the other world. Casimir was open about things and when asked, had said that such things could indeed open the mind to the Sea of Thought and potentially assist in reaching the Maker. Also make it easier for terrible things to happen, and the only defense was faith.
Yasska did have a great deal of faith and after she drank the tea she settled onto the hard stone, closing her eyes and finding the peace of her mind. Her hair fronds gently flexed, like they were imitating the ocean and Horosska found the rhythm of them rather mesmerizing. The tribe was silent, not wanting to disturb the shaman but then a child began to cry. She was gently shushed by her mother, but the children could not stay silent and gradually, soft conversations began as Yasska continued to meditate. It did not disturb her at all, from what Horosska could see.
Finally Yasska came out of her trance, shaking her head and looking groggy. That was the mushroom tea, it had that effect as it began to wear off.
"I do not understand. I do not understand…" Yasska's hair fronds twisted with confusion and distress. Horosska tilted her head, silently asking what was wrong. "The Maker… I did hear her voice. I swear I did. But all she would say was 'wait'." Yasska was very distressed and Horosska blinked. Wait? "But that is what we are already doing! What does it mean?"
"Perhaps it means we are on the proper course," Horosska said after a moment before looking at the Silver People. "What do you think?" Valdar shook his head but Casimir tilted his head, thinking about it.
"I think we must wait for the meaning of this to become clear. We definitely should wait here, wait for help, but perhaps it means something more," Casimir said and Yasska hardly seemed to be listening, lost in her own mental world. Horosska nodded, that made sense, although she wondered. What meaning could this mean?
For the next two weeks, they stretched their food as much as they could and the Silver People hunted. Casimir also helped, but in a different way… he brought in wood, so much wood, so it could be dried and made ready to use for fires when they needed to retreat into the deep caves. Valdar became very proficient at catching the Kssar, what the Silver People called 'bats'. They were small but when he brought back ten of them, they made a good soup.
Then the time came when they had to go into the deep caves. The Destroyers were moving into the mountains and Casimir and Valdar said that going deeper would hide them for longer. Perhaps they might be missed entirely… although if Sautekh did not come, that would do them no good. They would just die more slowly, in the ashes of their lands.
They retreated into the depths of the caves, clustering around the water. It was incredible dark, but the green lights of the Silver People helped and they were able to light a small fire to stay warm. Horosska felt grim as she checked what was left of their food supplies… they had enough left for four days, no more.
Many of the adults shorted their own food, to give the children more. Horosska wanted to call them foolish – the children could not live without them, after all – but then let the feeling pass. The littles were so fragile, particularly the youngest ones and this was all so hard on them.
They sang softly and told more stories to keep their spirits up. Casimir told them stories that he said were myths, stories of things that had not happened at all and Horosska learned the stories of a place called Greece. Some of it was very puzzling. Why did Zeus become animals to make babies? That was strange and perverse, even if the babies were fine. The Oracle of Delphi though… a future teller who always seemed to foretell bad things that could not be avoided… that puzzled Horosska deeply. Why would anyone speak to such a thing? She asked that aloud and Valdar answered.
"People always think they are the one who can avoid fate," he said and Horosska sighed to herself. She could see that, her own people often lacked common sense. It seemed the Silver People were much the same.
"Also, I have always thought, the Oracle must have sometimes given good prophecies. But they did not make good stories. 'You will gain great wealth, live to an old age and have five beautiful children'. That is great for you, but how is that a story?" Casimir said and Horosska blinked before twitching her fronds in amusement.
"That is a good point," she allowed. That would be a very boring story. "Perhaps they were hoping to get the good prophecy then." That made far more sense.
The Silver People were very helpful to keep their spirits up, as they had so many stories the Anaut People had never heard. As time passed, though, it was hard to stay hopeful, so hard. They were all so hungry and all they could do to slake it was drink more water. The little children were whimpering softly, pained by their empty bellies. And there was nothing to be done but endure it, hoping that help would arrive. And even deep in the caves, the stench of the burning was reaching them… it made them cough, sometimes.
A full week after they ran out of food, Yasska said something truly horrible.
"I am old, and I have taught Kssentra my ways. I will offer my body to the tribe," Yasska said and Horosska stared at her, appalled. She understood what Yasska was saying… it had not happened in her lifetime, but Horosska knew that in horrible times, when the tribe was in danger of having no future, such a sacrifice could be made. It was still horrendous to contemplate and Yasska said it so calmly!
"No, we cannot. We can survive longer," Horosska said sharply and Yasska shook her head.
"The children are close to death." Horosska bit her lip. She knew Yasska was right, about the youngest ones at least. They had no extra flesh for padding and they were so sad now, quiet and listless as they starved. "It is time." Horosska heard the two Silver People, quietly conversing in their own language. "I will make this offering freely." The rest of the tribe was looking down or away… they were hungry, they were all so hungry, but to eat one of their own…
Then suddenly, Casimir spoke sharply.
"No, wait!" Horosska stared at him. His voice had an odd intensity. "Wait! Wait!"
"The children cannot wait," Yasska started but Casimir spoke over her.
"That is what the Maker said! WAIT!" What? "This is what the Maker meant! Wait! Help is coming soon! Very soon, Sautekh will be here!" Horosska blinked. This… was the meaning of the Maker's words? Yasska's eyes widened and she was taken aback.
"You think that is why…" she murmured before blinking and finding her assurance again. "How long should we wait?"
"Two more days," Valdar said calmly, holding up two fingers. "Just two. If this is truly the word of the Maker, then help must be very close at hand, so close that this sacrifice would be terrible tragedy. If there is no help in two days, we are wrong about the Maker's words." Terrible tragedy… Horosska swallowed at the thought. It would kill the spirit of the tribe, if Yasska made that sacrifice only for help to come the next day. Surely help wasn't coming the next day?
"Very well, we will wait for two days," Yasska consented and Horosska could see she was quietly relieved. But they all wanted to live, she was just thinking of the good of the tribe.
For perhaps the first time in her life, Horosska truly believed in the Maker. Because the very next day, help arrived.
They knew something was happening when the two Silver People both went completely stiff and uncommunicative. Their minds were somewhere else and they would not respond… then when they came out of it, Casimir made an excited shout.
"They are here! SAUTEKH! They are here, they are fighting!" The tribe murmured to each other and began asking excited questions. Yasska quickly took control of things.
"Can we go out?" she asked and Valdar shook his head.
"They are still fighting. They told us to stay put, if the Destroyers find us they will kill us to spite Sautekh." Yes, that made sense. "We told them you need food, and they said the land across the sea is untouched. When things are a bit safer, they will bring us food." Horosska almost wanted to cry. Was rescue truly here?
Later that day, she did cry when more Silver People came and brought the corpse of a strange beast. It was like nothing she had seen before, large and covered in tough hide, but they could get through it with work and under that hide, it was delicious. The children fell onto the meat with soft creels of hunger and Horosska was happy beyond words. Valdar conversed with the new Silver People for a moment before turning to them.
"They want us to stay here a bit longer… they are going to find a good place across the sea, to resettle your tribe." Horosska blinked. Across the sea? Although there had always been rumors of good land there. "There are none of your people there yet, they should be able to find a good place."
(that was not entirely true, but Valdar was trying not to complicate things… The planet had two more continents, one inhabited by the green xenos but the other completely disconnected, with completely different wildlife and none of the small aliens)
(Valdar knew they might have a hard time adapting to it and he was very worried)
"Thank you. Thank you so much," one of the mothers said, tears in her eyes and Horosska was deeply moved. She added her voice to the thanks as the whole tribe thanked them. Valdar nodded, accepting the thanks as Casimir translated it for the other Silver People. Horosska spared a brief moment to also thank the Maker.
Thank the Maker they had waited.
The last thing Manric was expecting, when he reached this far off world, was to encounter the most serious naval military threat he had faced in his career.
Yet, that was what happened. Manric came out to find a Necron naval fleet that was substantially smaller than his own, yet still incredibly dangerous. He immediately dropped fully into the command net, deploying his forces and the enemy commander responded in kind. He vaguely noticed some shuttles leaving the planet and quickly joining the ships, likely bringing home a few forces.
Contact. The battle began in earnest as the first shots were fired. Manric fell into his usual trance, seeing everything as a simulation and he managed the battle with consummate skill. His opponent though was doing the same and Manric could almost imagine he was playing against Itolyx, like he had so long ago, in the Crownworld of the Uhnashret. His opponent had that same lack of imagination, something Itolyx was gradually overcoming. But for this moment, that was a weakness he could exploit.
Manric trusted Tadutep to pull off a particularly dangerous maneuver and he did it flawlessly. Manric felt his own ship shuddering but ignored it, trusting his crew and vessel. It was taking time, necron vessels were incredibly durable even facing their own, but he could feel the upper hand. The enemy was on the defensive. He just had to –
The ship did not just rock, now, and Manric almost lost his balance as some awareness of his body intruded. His ship was taking heavy fire and Manric abruptly realized he might have made a mistake. He had no time to contemplate it, though, as a rupture occurred on the bridge. Manric could see into the vacuum of space and see the green lights. With a strange and preternatural calm, Manric knew he was looking at his own death.
Command goes to Tadutep, Manric said and felt the command protocols already cascading before the explosion came.
When Manric came back to awareness, it was in the darkness and safety of the recall ship.
As he waited for his body to finish repairs, Manric reflected on it. Necron recall vessels were like heavily armored pillbugs, living at the centre of a necron naval formation. They had no real weapons and could take absolutely absurd amounts of damage, making them an impractical target for most other races. Necrons, meanwhile, would not target them. Not only was it against the rules of war, it was just stupid… the precious technology on a recall ship represented a priceless resource for them. Win the battle, break the enemy fleet, and by ancient tradition you would take the recall ship as a prize. Prisoners would be taken from it, Naval ratings would be reprogrammed and repurposed, Crypteks would be recruited. Sometimes, in particularly bitter wars, it was not unknown for a recall vessel to be destroyed by their own fleet when defeat was certain. Yet that was also a violation of the Necron laws of war, so that was quite rare.
So Manric was confident in his own safety. What tormented his mind, though, was the thought of his crew. Had all of them made it to the recall ship? Had Sehenna? Also, the ship only had capacity for a certain number of casualties. Hopefully they would not start to overwhelm it… although that would indicate things were going very badly…
When Manric was released from the recall pod, he did not immediately take command again. Instead he joined the command net as an observer and saw that he had been in the recall chamber for a significant amount of time. How long? A quick check indicated a bit over an hour. With a battle like this, that was a long time indeed.
The enemy was broken and making a final stand. Tadutep was ripping them apart and Manric decided it was prudent to not jog his elbow, so to speak. Instead, he mentally noted the Maynarkh recall ship. Would they destroy it? They were known to have no honor.
Indeed, that was precisely what happened. Manric was dismayed but not surprised when the enemy recall vessel abruptly blew up in a very spectacular fashion. Sighing internally, Manric shook his head… that was truly a sign this battle was over, but it was dismaying. Many of the Maynarkh were corrupted beyond use, but surely some of them could be saved. Not to mention all the Dynasties they had absorbed over the years… there had undoubtedly been some who could have been salvaged.
Setting that aside, Manric began reviewing his own performance. He'd made a mistake, he knew he had, and he already guessed what it was. On completing his review, he groaned to himself… stupid! So stupid! He would confirm it with Tadutep later, but Manric was internally sure of it. What a ridiculous mistake to make!
To his utter relief, his crew was fine and Sehenna was fine. Not a single recall failure although many of them were taking longer to put together than Manric had. On reviewing the logs, he found that he'd been neatly torn into two pieces by the explosion, which was relatively easy to fix. Others had been ripped into multiple parts… poor Sehenna had been in almost a dozen pieces. Manric was so glad she had recalled, even if repairs were taking longer.
As Tadutep worked at stomping out the last, stubborn resistance, Manric reached out to Itolyx. He was leading the ground action.
"How is everything going down there?" Manric asked, still observing the naval battle. Itolyx answered instantly.
Extremely well. The Destroyers exacted high casualties, but that was expected. Yes, they were quite vicious. Our own Destroyers did extremely well. That was Agatef and two others. Agatef was now in charge of a unit, making use of his brilliance in the arts of war. There are two things here that will require your attention, when you have time. Firstly, we have located two of the missing survey crew. They have an interesting story, apparently their ship was stolen by the third. Manric blinked at that. Steal a survey ship? Why? They have been assisting and protecting a tribe of a native, sentient species. Ah, no, this planet had intelligent life? Manric felt a deep stab of sadness at the thought. It was bad enough when any planet was razed like this, let alone one with sentients who could appreciate what was happening. We will need to resettle them and possibly offer assistance. Secondly, we have recovered a prisoner of the Maynarkh. They had?! THAT was unusual. Wait, why would they be keeping a prisoner? She is in extremely poor state and needs to be examined by the Crypteks. I fear she might be infectious. Manric blinked at that concern. She has indicated her Dynasty was destroyed and she was taken to be an amusement for the commander of these forces.
"Ugh," Manric muttered. That was something the drukhari would do. "Well, keep here safe for now, until the Crypteks can look at her." Did they fear she had some kind of computer virus or nanite illness? How bad was her condition? It sounded like it had to be horrendous. "I will be down as soon as I can." First, he needed to evaluate the state of the fleet. One thing Manric knew for certain… the schedule as completely shot. The Living Metal of their ships could regenerate itself, but after taking the kind of punishment another necron fleet dished out, it would take some time. The Crypteks would be hard at work, for the foreseeable future. Still… as he watched the last of the enemy ships be destroyed, Manric allowed himself to feel a bit of accomplishment.
Despite his mistakes, things had gone well.
