Planetary Governor Siskel Tobertson stood in a beautiful penthouse apartment in a high tower, gazing out over his domain. His apartment was well insulated and well heated, so he only needed to wear light clothing and beautiful flowers would grow. Aside from that small luxury, his apartments were not particularly special. The best Tisiphone had to offer, to be sure, but that did not say much.

"Father?" Siskel turned to see his son. Young Raphael, he was barely twenty years old and was looking quite snappy in his brand new uniform. "What are you thinking?"

"I was just looking over the city," Siskel said, turning back to the window. "It's looking good, for once." The population was not naturally expanding, but that was no longer much of an issue. The large infusion of new workers the Sautekh had given them was breathing life into the city. "Although the cultural issues…" That was a bit of a headache. Tisiphone had long been isolated and developed a very distinct culture, unique to the planet. The clans did not take well to outsiders and did not like change, a poor combination at the moment. Siskel hoped they would get used to it. "How have things been going with our PDF?" That was Raphael's great passion, now. Before their entry into the Sautekh Empire he'd wanted to join the Guard but that had completely changed.

"Excellently! That's why I wanted to see you, we just got our first Knight Armors, three days ago." Ah, excellent. For a moment, Siskel reflected on it.

When his coffers had begun filling up with unexpected wealth, Siskel had been lost on what to do with it. He'd immediately purchased tinned and preserved food, of course, and distributed it at cost to the population. With the fine instincts of Tisiphone dwellers, they had snapped it all up and looked for more. In addition to that, he'd fully funded the hospital, getting in all the medicines and technologies and prosthetics that had been lacking before. He'd also directed them to sell the medicines at cost, and to reach out to him if anyone needed expensive treatments. Siskel had gotten a terraforming company to work revitalizing the seas… they were still working on that, but already showing excellent progress. In just ten years, the seas of Tisiphone could be lightly fished again. Finally, he was having a brand-new power plant built. The local Mechanicus tech priests had requested it.

That had still left quite a lot of money, and more coming in as the mines expanded. Siskel could have created a gilded palace for himself, but that was not his way and also, it would have been socially unacceptable. Tisiphone had certain rules of conduct. It wasn't even the gold and luxuries they would have objected to, it was his leaving the tower he lived in. Unless there was a good and pressing reason, it was considered extremely bad for a Clan to leave their ancestral dwelling and this tower had been his families' home for generations.

Then Raphael had approached him with the idea to create a planetary defence force. The Sisters of Battle and a small Guard unit had been stationed here to protect them from the orks, but they were gone now so did it not make sense for them to form a PDF? They had the money for equipment and housing and rations. Siskel had been extremely ambivalent on it, thinking the necrons might object, so he'd diffidently approached their commander with the idea. To his shock, the Overlord in charge had been extremely supportive and Siskel had been dismayed to find out why.

Tisiphone was now a target for other Necron Dynasties. The Overlord described how, if they broke through, they would immediately go to the mines and tear through them to just grab everything they could before destroying them. That was why the Sautekh Dynasty had a powerful presence here but despite everything, it might be worthwhile for an enemy. They were particularly looking out for the Szarekhan Dynasty but the Overlord frankly said that there were two other Dynasties within reasonable distance who might be honorless enough to attempt such a raid.

To Siskel, this was horrifying. His planet had just discovered wealth, he did not want it stripped away. And while there might be other deposits of transpositanium on the planet, they would probably be much harder to mine than the mineral salts. Up in the colder regions of the planet, the eternal ice that required intense protective gear just to survive. They would eventually find those deposits and mine them, if they were there, but not until the mineral salts were played out.

So with the full support of the Sautekh, Siskel had fully funded a local PDF and put Raphael in charge. He was inexperienced, of course, but frankly they all were and he at least had a passion for it. He was learning using games and simulations, often with the necrons as opponents. They had lasguns and bolters and even some power weapons, from that remarkable place called Hope. Power weapon technology was largely lost to the Imperium, so that was truly impressive.

Siskel pulled his mind back to Raphael, who was telling him about how the Knight Armors had already been bonded and the pilots were getting used to them, with assistance from a trainer from Hope. That was very puzzling, however.

"I don't understand… I thought bonding to such constructs was a difficult process?" From what Siskel understood, a pilot of the Knight Houses had to complete a vigil and then attempt to bond with the machine spirit. If he failed, he normally died or went mad.

"I asked about that… it seems that isn't true of the first bonding, or even the second or third. It only becomes an issue when the machine spirit is building up complexity from multiple bondings." Ah. That did make sense. "Father, our trainer from Hope said some things which indicate they have a very alien culture." Oh? "He said that if the bonding starts to become a problem, they'll likely scrap the older units." What?!

"That sounds like a crime against the machine spirits," Siskel said after a moment and Raphael looked very troubled.

"Yes, I said that and he said that machine spirits aren't real. He said it would just be a rogue psychic imprint that should not be allowed to interfere with the machine." Siskel knew that the Mechanicus would consider that heresy of the highest order. "Then one of those strange necrons, the ones they say used to be human, stepped in and told him to stop being offensive to local customs. It's so strange though… they do not believe in machine spirits?" Hm.

"I had heard that Hope is a place out of time, much closer to ancient Terra than we are. That's why they are all fluent in High Gothic, that is their native tongue," Siskel said after a moment. He hadn't really put much stock in that, it was just a rumor, but… "Perhaps that would explain why they do not believe in the machine spirits. Things were different back then." The Dark Age of Technology had been very unenlightened. "I wonder if they use Abominable Intelligence?" That was a horrifying thought. Raphael looked a bit disturbed at the thought.

"Well, the necrons do use such things so hopefully it will be fine," Raphael said and Siskel frowned.

"They had best not expect us to use such things." Servitors might be a bit horrible, true, but they at least would not turn upon humanity. "Well, I doubt they would bother. We should – " Then the klaxons suddenly blared.

Siskel froze for a moment in complete shock as Raphael went stiff, surprise, shock and a bit of fear chasing across his face. Then training and knowledge engaged.

"Raphael, scramble the PDF to defend the mines." This was it, exactly what they had formed it for. "I will handle the civilian evacuation." Particularly from the mines. If this was a necron invasion force, which was likely, they wouldn't care about the town but the mine workers would be in grave danger. Raphael swallowed hard before saluting.

"Yes sir!" He headed out and Siskel reached for the communicators. The workers were drilled, everyone was drilled, but people tended to panic and they would still need help. As he reached out to the Astropaths, Siskel hesitated before telling them to alert the Imperial forces stationed at Stormfall, as well as the forces of the Sautekh Empire. There was no reason for those forces to help, but maybe?

He could only hope the Iron Hawks might take pity on them.


Up above, in the skies of Tisiphone.

"Galmack! You – " Overlord Djenhyt followed that with a torrent of swearing in the Necron tongue. Insults that, back in the Time of Flesh, would have been a killing matter. In the current day, though, Phaeron Galmack just tilted his head to one side and made a glyph of confusion.

"I do not know any of those words. What is this?" ARGH! Djenhyt hated it, but switched to Low Gothic and did a decent translation on the fly.

"I just called you a rotten cunt! You sack of shit, you unbearable spawn of a diseased – " Djenhyt had to fumble a moment to find a decent human word. "Goat! Your mother – " Djenhyt continued translating the insults as best he could, detailing how Galmack's entire family tree was diseased and rotten. Galmack made glyphs of appreciation.

"Hahaha, wonderful! I hope we capture you alive, so you can tell me more of these wonderful words!" RUST OFF! "For now, however, I want what you have and I will take it." That was extremely honest but Djenhyt was not in the mood to appreciate it. The communication ended and the naval battle began in earnest.

Overlord Djenhyt was in a bad position and he knew it. Imotekh had put the strongest force around Tisiphone that he could, but this was not a small Szarekhan raiding expedition, operating far from home. This was Phaeron Galmack and his Dynasty forces, which were in close proximity to this part of space. Djenhyt's force was outnumbered four to one and the only advantage they had was their control of the orbitals and the fixed defenses.

We have to hold as long as we can and hope the astropaths got out word. Djenhyt hated it, because he knew the astropaths were NOT reliable. They were technically within the Nihilus sector, past the light of the astronomicon, although not really. The accursed Great Rift was thinner here, this far from the Eye of Terror and Imotekh had used blackstone ages ago to cut a path through. It made it safer for FTL ships, in addition to making it possible for Warp ships. And the Imperium was not above using that path, even before the peace treaty... now, it was even easier for them. And some light of the astronomicon bled through that hole, making Warp travel extremely difficult but feasible.

Despite all of that, though, the message to Gidrim might be lost. Not that it would be sent to Gidrim directly… that was a necron Tomb World, the heart of Zahndrekh's former kingdom. But it directly administered over dozens of human worlds and the astropaths would send the message to the closest. After that, FTL would kick in and Gidrim would have word instantly. They were well fortified, as any good Tomb should be, so they could send help. If only the word got through.

Outnumbered or not, Djenhyt's force was powerful. They just had to hope that help was coming, and hold out long enough.


"You are not ready. Stay here," the trainer of the young Knight Armor pilots, a grizzled old veteran, spoke sharply to his charges. They all looked at him in rebellion.

"We cannot sit on the sidelines while our people are fighting!" One of them said sharply, to murmurs of the agreement of the others. The veteran set his teeth before snarling.

"You have bonded to them three days ago! You can barely move properly!" They likely thought otherwise but to his eyes, they were all as clumsy as little children just learning to walk. "You will get the equipment destroyed and die to no purpose! I absolutely forbid it and I will disable them if I have to." He had the authority to do that, for now… it was meant for if a sparring bought went incredible wrong, he could stop the combatants remotely. "In fact, fuck this." He said before doing exactly that. There was a flurry of protests as the Knight Armor's indicators flickered to red, the armors forced into inactivity.

"YOU can fight, and have your Knight Armor. Or are you too valuable to be spared?" One of them said, his tone saying what he thought of that. The old Knight Armor pilot laughed, before climbing up his own Knight Armor. He was so much slower than he had been, if he were still young he could have made it a smooth move and this would all be so much more dramatic. Ah well.

You can get other trainers and I have no intention of sitting this out, he said with the Knight Armor's speakers, slamming his mechanical hands together as the settled his connections in place. It was like taking the hand of a long-time friend. It is time for you to see what a Knight Armor can do. He was well aware he could die, and likely would, but he did not particularly care as he loped out to join the defense forces. He intended to act as an anchor, holding the center of the line and providing strength for the young recruits.

His presence would give them courage.


Luther Grivberg checked his equipment for the tenth time, his nerves making his stomach feel sour. He was only nineteen years old and had dreamed of joining the Guard, so he'd signed right up for their new PDF. He didn't regret his choice, not at all, but he was still terrified to be facing combat for the first time.

"Remember what the Immortals said. The Scarabs are just a terror tactic. Since we can't tell the friendlies from the hostiles, don't fire on them unless they close in on you. They're only dangerous in groups, and our own scarabs will prevent them from coming in as a group." Yes, they had lots of those.

They also had a lot of Warriors and Immortals, and they would be holding the bulk of the lines. There were plenty of entrances to the mines that needed to be guarded. Although it was possible those forces would have to abandon them and move to stop sapping efforts – Luther knew that Canoptek machines could dig through the ground pretty quickly. That part of the battle was too complicated for him but he knew they might have to hold on their own, depending on how things changed. His mouth felt dry and his hands tightened on his weapon. His mother had begged him not to do this, but he'd told her he would be fine. Luther hoped he hadn't been lying.

The ships fighting above them couldn't stop the drop ships from getting through, not with the forces they had. The fixed defenses on the planet did good work, annihilating many before they could land and causing others to crash, but still they got through.

For Luther, the pavlovian training the Immortals had given them took over as the fight began. All of his mind became engaged in just firing and ducking, using the good, strong barricades as cover. They could take gauss flayer fire, no problem, he just had to not get hit. That was easier said than done, though, and the regenerative powers of the necrons were a pain in the ass. Fortunately, the high class weapons they'd been given, the lasguns and bolters of Hope, could do real damage.

Luther didn't know it, because most like him didn't, but he was a Lambda class psyker. For him, that manifested as a bit of telepathic ability under very high stress situations. So he knew there was something behind him and whirled while shooting directly into the chest of an enemy. That blew a hole in it but long fingers that looked like talons still slashed down.

Then the necrons' head exploded. Luther blinked as the thing collapsed. As it did, he noticed it seemed to be wearing rotted flesh? He'd heard of this, wasn't it some kind of computer virus? As it fell, a voice seemed to speak in his ear.

You humans with psyker abilities. You sensed him teleport behind you. They could teleport?! Be at ease. We Deathmarks are barred from honorable combat, but these are not honorable opponents. We will guard your back. Luther swallowed, blinking. Well? Go back to your duties.

"Uh, right," Luther said, finally rebooting his brain. He'd likely have some trauma from this later, but for now he had to do what he'd been trained to do. His gun still in hand, he turned back to the battlefield. "For Tisiphone, for my family, for everything!" he said to himself as he began to fire again.

Tisiphone had only recently been given the gift of hope. Luther would defend it with all that he had.


In terms of interstellar distances, Tisiphone was very close to Stormfall.

When Imotekh had requested Tisiphone as one of the worlds to be ceded to Sautekh, he'd only wanted it as a staging ground against the orks. Guilliman had understood that and conceded it immediately, since having the Sautekh Empire in this area of space was a net positive for the Imperium of Man. Not only did they fight the orks, they also fought Chaos and it gave the necrons a strong incentive to keep their 'gate' through the Great Rift open. This worked out well for everyone.

Because of the close distance, though, the message from the astropaths reached Stormfall promptly and with little degradation. That left the Chapter Master of the Iron Hawks with a decision to make. As he stood on the bridge of his ship, in orbit around Stormfall, he pondered the matter.

We have no reason to interfere. This is not our battle. The necrons were fighting between themselves over strategic resources. If it had been the Szarekhan Dynasty, maybe the Imperium would have had a dog in the fight, but the message made it clear that it was Novokh. That actually made the attack more serious, because Galmack had a lot more forces in the area to play with than Szarekh ever could. And that thought brought a spike of rage to the mind of the Chapter Master. He clenched his hands as he thought. I hate that son of a bitch. He hadn't at first. The Iron Hawks had been the ones to deliver the refusal of Galmack's offer of alliance, and told him why. Galmack had actually loved it, taking the rejection with good humor and cheerfully admitting that Imotekh was completely right.

Then, the Phaeron of Novokh had immediately proven that he was dangerously insane. He'd deliberately seeded several Imperium worlds with ork spores, which made NO sense, and then attacked a lunar station in an isolated system. That had been a massacre, and Galmack had left them with messages written in blood and viscera and bodies, on the surface of the moon. Not even insults, when they'd had the necron runes translated… they were crude jokes. And what he'd done with the bodies of the Battle Brothers they'd had stationed there had been worse.

Galmakh was a force of random chaos and the Chapter Master of the Iron Hawks hated it, and hated him. His chapter was descended from the Ultramarines and they valued order above all else. Galmakh's actions had no rhyme or reason that he could understand, and that made him utterly detestable, even beyond the orks. That was what led him to his decision.

"Make ready. We are going to Tisiphone," he said and the armada under his command immediately began to organize themselves, taking in supplies and water for the trip and getting people on leave back from the planet. Mechanicus tech priests began the rituals of awakening for some ships, and others just ran quick checks, their machine spirits already being in the awakened state. By the time they got all the crew back, they would be ready to go.

Galmakh was about to regret taking on the Imperium of Man.


Phaeron Galmakh of the Novokh Dynasty was having a wonderful time.

Such wonderful words! I am so lucky I recorded everything! Galmakh was already making a small lexicon of Necron swearwords. Ah, so shameful, that Szarekh had not preserved these words when he had codified their language! And even more shameful that they had been deliberately extinguished during the War in Heaven, when they labored beneath the yoke of the C'Tan! Oh, they still had insults and curses, but they were all so sterile now. They had forgotten how to reference the deliciously filthy organic functions they'd once owned.

Even as he worked on the curse words, though, Galmakh was fully aware of how the battle was going. It could have been going better… they hadn't broken into the mines yet. He really did need the transpositanium, he was running short on it thanks to all the Chaos raiders he'd been dealing with recently. And paying for it was out of the question. Not only would it be too expensive, it was very hard to find anyone willing to part with it. Dynasties horded the precious metal like dragons on their gold. At least, Galmakh thought that was the human expression.

"Amenhoros, what's the holdup? Why are you not sweeping aside these lesser beings?" Galmakh said to his commander on the ground. Amenhoros was a powerful Overlord and good at killing things, what was the problem?

The Sautekh have well fortified the mines and given the humans necron-grade equipment. Also, the Flayers are not working, they are eliminating them with Deathmarks. Bah! And after all the trouble he'd gone to, to bring them without getting everyone infected! We tried sapping but we ran into something strange at the first location and wasted a great deal of time. What?

"Ran into something? Specifics, Amenhoros," Galmakh growled, feeling impatient. There was a brief silence.

I don't know what it is. Some relic of our species that seems to have been there for some time. The Crypteks would like to analyze it but we don't have time. All I know is it stopped the Canoptek machines dead and we had to work around it. What?! Who had done this? Wait, was this an ancient necrontyr world?

(it was actually a piece of equipment that Technomancer Ahkaros had left behind. He'd collected it and been examining it before deciding it was worthless and just popping it into a convenient spot, in one of the spent mine shafts. It was pure bad fortune for Galmakh that his sapping crew had run into it)

"Speed this up. If Sautekh's reinforcements arrive before have at least a kesul of transpositanium, I am leaving you behind," Galmakh growled. While punishing Amenhoros himself had great appeal, just leaving him was a terrible punishment indeed. They both knew that Amenhoros would not change his loyalties, no matter the duress.

Yes Phaeron. Galmakh ended the communication, his mood starting to sour. This was not much fun. He hated doing things that were not much fun, even if they needed doing. Why were the necessary things not fun? Galmackh was unaware of the few semi-sentients on his bridge, the Immortals and Warriors with any sliver of understanding, carefully minding their work and trying not to draw his ire. They all recognized this mood and how dangerous it was.

Then things abruptly became fun again! Terrible for what was necessary, of course, but very fun indeed!

"Oh hoho, what have we here?" Galmakh said, all joviality restored as the Warp twisted and disgorged ship after ship. "Ah, the Iron Hawks! Are they angry that we made such nice jokes? Ohhh, are you angry?" The semi-sentients on his ship were relieved that the Phaeron was no longer upset, although a few of them knew they might die shortly. Still, they would face an enemy before their Phaeron any day. "Ah, everyone, what do you think?" Galmakh stepped forward easily, summoning the rest of the fleet commanders into a conference. Screens from each ship appeared in front of him. "Shall we die today?" The entire fleet knew that he was not in the least bit joking. There was an uncomfortable silence. "No one shall try to talk me out of it? Ah, but you all remember what happened to the last one of you to try that, eh?" He actually wasn't dead, but Overlord Intenshet was suffering greatly. Galmakh intended to let him out in a year or two, that should be sufficient. Overlord Ahanebhi finally bowed.

Great Phaeron, while it would be a thing of great beauty to end our lives in a blaze of glory, I suggest that this time and place is insufficient for a light of your caliber. Ah, that was a point, was this really good enough for the Moon Killer? Should he not die in a more spectacular fashion? Also, if you die now, how will you learn the meanings of those words nemesor Djenhyt used? AH! Galmakh laughed then, delighted at that argument.

"Good, good! Yes, you are right, that would be a great tragedy. Let us depart!" Oh, that reminded him. "Amenhoros! Say hello to Imotekh for me, and tell him I regret only that it didn't work!" Oh, Imotekh would be angry but Galmakh had a truly evil plan for that!

Yes Phaeron. Poor Amenhoros, even his mechanical voice carried such resignation! Yet even if Galmakh wanted, it would be hard to get any of them back, those Imperial ships were closing quickly. Yes, retreat, retreat! Galmakh was laughing as they fled, back into the great void of space.

This hadn't worked out, but he'd still had a great time in the end.