**Author's note: I have no idea what is going on with this site. I have not seen my stats update since late February (it tells me zero people have clicked on this fic), and now, I'm just finding out that some of my PMs didn't send correctly back in December/January. If you feel like messaging me on Discord, feel free to hit me up. My ID is bestunicorn#8509. Apologies for any confusion, and now, back to the chaos in Enva!**
"Station fifteen is down! Warning, system overload! Rerouting power to systems one and nine," the adept announced with a nervous warble in his synthetic voice to Magos Nimmie Amee from across the wide interior underground space beside the Tower of Reason. Null listened to the trouble from inside a dark vault as he inserted a thin metal needle in the prefrontal cortex of a prone psyker. The noise was distracting, but he could handle it, and the needle was inserted smoothly into the psyker's head. The man made a low whine of pain, but made no other noise, as he had been surgically modified to not loudly vocalize any discomfort upon his acquisition from the local courts. Jiminy, his metal mantis, fluttered on the Archmagos' left shoulder as he worked.
"My cogitator just went black again!" another Tech-priest cried out. More adepts growled in frustration. Null continued his work, and plugged a new cable into the power conditioner that lay flush against the blackstone pylon. The quality of the psyker prisoners on this world was actually quite good along with the tools offered to him for this task by Magos Amee. Soon, the Archmagos believed that he would be able to harness the power of this pylon to cause a general Warp-muffling effect across the region. While not a complete "shut out" of the Immaterium, a suppression field of approximately 60% would certainly be a good start. At the present time, the anti-Warp dampening effect would extend only to a radius of one hundred kilometers originating from the Tower of Reason, which would just about touch the gold hull of the Statue of Libertine. Null had worked with extra diligence this evening to ensure that the effect would include that chilling colossus. If what he and the Inheritor suspected was true, then this would cripple any daemonic interference into that construct.
The Archmagos shuddered. He did not want to see a repeat of Levant!
"Do we even know what's causing these cascading failures yet? Anyone? We've gone two years without similar glitches and now the entire network seems to want to fail when we try to ignite the blasted pylon! Sick of this!" the spidery metal woman buzzed out to her small army of various adepts, Tech-priests, and waiting aides. No one answered the intimidating Magos. "We will continue our experiments with the pylon. We are so very close, I can feel it!" Magos Amee informed the group before turning about and walking into the cloistered room with Null. Not turning around, the Archmagos nodded a greeting as the Magos walked into the vault. Null then went about preparing another inter-cranial needle bound for a ten year old vagrant boy's brain.
In the last hour, the various signaling stations placed across Evna that controlled the actions of the tireless fleet of Wheeler security servitors had been experiencing unusual failures. Initially, it appeared that one of the stations had been struck by a flyer, causing it to go offline. This was not all that unusual, as individual stations would malfunction from time to time. But now, it appeared that the entire damned network was suffering some kind of instability. This concerned the Archmagos, but he did not voice his worry to Magos Amee. While they were not in immediate danger of losing the entire Wheeler security force, individual servitors were now reported to be behaving erratically by an unnerved populace. Just some interference, they reported. Probably some kind of solar storm, or something to that effect.
Probably nothing, yes, Null thought nervously.
Nimmie Amee huffed as Null listened to her busy herself with a cogitator in the rear of the room. Before them, and restrained on metal gurneys, five mostly-paralyzed psykers were being tested against the strange energies of the mysterious blackstone pylon. The trials were going well, and soon, Null believed that he would be able to produce an adequate Warp-nullifying field for the city of Evna. It made him happy that he had the opportunity to work with Nimmie again, and he found himself grinning as he observed the psychokinetic energy output of the psykers displayed on a nearby cogitator. Just like old times, he mused. Two rogue geniuses working together in innovation.
"Oh Null, what an evening. We haven't had failures like this in centuries! Of course this all happens on the date of Langwidere's ball! She will no doubt blame this on me!" The Archmagos then heard the spider Magos stand up, and walk to him. She touched his back gently with a three fingered mechadendrite. Contact with her made him smile.
"Are you certain it has nothing to do with what we're doing in here?" Null quietly asked as he checked the pupillary action of the child psyker.
"Two different power sources, Chopper," she responded to him. "The signalling network runs on an entirely isolated grid, and-"
An alarm began to blare in this room, and Nimmie turned around, rushing to her workstation. The lights even began to flicker in here, and confused murmuring could be heard in the other room. "Omnissiah, what a disaster! That alarm means the main antenna at the top of the tower now seems to be out! I'm going to need to send an adept outside to reboot it. The defensive lascannons are down as well with it!"
Null stood up nervously at hearing that, and turned to Nimmie with alarm. Everything was under control, he said to himself. This was just a difficult evening, but he still got to spend it with his favorite woman. But, to not have wholly separate systems for vital defensive weaponry? "Nimmie, tell me you didn't cut corners by hinging the defensive cannons on the same line as the antenna?"
The Magos huffed angrily again, and then exhaled a long buzzing sigh. "Funding difficulties, Chopper. We do not get regular funding from Mars," she simply said as the alarm continued to sound. "Anyway, a manual reset always fixes it, so I'll-"
"No, no, no. Tell me what to do, and I'll go up there. I want to see this setup. Maybe I can find an easy fix to partition everything? For safety issues, they should not be entwined," the Archmagos replied with slight exasperation. He didn't want her to know that he was actually becoming worried. The more he thought about the fluctuating signaling network, the more uncomfortable he became. He briefly wondered if this crawling paranoia is what it was like to have psyker abilities, and he decided that it was very unpleasant. The Archmagos looked down at the paralyzed psykers, and briefly felt bad for the poor wretches. The feeling quickly passed when he reminded himself that they were criminals. The Archmagos then said: "Nimmie, I do adore you as you know, but surely you could have scrounged funds together for something so vital?" Null shook his head again. "I will reset the network, and examine the antenna itself. I want to go outside for air as well. I have not been well recently."
Nimmie's eight eyes flashed with concern. "Well, if you insist, Chopper. I'd really prefer you down here on the pylon, but if you need a break, take service elevator nine up to the 96th floor, and then, take terminal elevator seven to access point alpha on the roof. If you still tend toward feeling temperature differentials, bring an extra robe, and always remember to hook yourself up if it is windy, which it usually is," the Magos quickly rattled off as she attended to another dataslate given to her by one of her adepts. Null was given instructions on how to reboot the antenna, and sent away.
The stinginess of Mars could not be denied, Null thought angrily as he made his way to the elevators. None of this was actually sweet Nimmie's fault. She was a genius, and she had to make due with what she had with a sparse budget. If he ever made it to the rank of Fabricator-General, budget oversight and distribution would be one of he first things he would tackle. Mars, at least a thousand years ago, was now a terrible bloated monstrosity crafted out of metal, tape, and nepotism. It desperately needed an overhaul. The Archmagos groaned with frustration, and sent a mental command to the metal mantis on his shoulder to go and stay with Nimmie while he ran this errand. It would do no good for his homunculus to blown away a half kilometer up into the sky. With a quick code inputted into a keypad next to the elevator, he was on his way up the tower.
After a few minutes, and a change of lifts, the Archmagos watched as the door slid open to a gusty nighttime sky. What a damned disaster, he thought. Everything that could go wrong has gone wrong, he thought, carrying a small tool box. He knew that he needed to calm down, and so, he set to work.
The very top of the Tower of Reason was outfitted with sophisticated anti-aircraft weaponry, and four heavy lascannons were mounted on each corner of the roof. At the center of the roof, a tall tower stretched into the sky as it sent instructions to the Wheeler security forces all over Evna. Normally, a tiny red light would indicate the antenna's operational status, but right now, it was dark. Both the tower's four defensive cannons and the antenna were down, and he needed to reset the roof's power relays manually up here to get both systems to work again.
All he needed to do was to flip a few switches on each of the cannons, and then, he would need to input a code on the antenna before restarting the network. Simple enough, really. It was nice to get away from that stuffy room downstairs too.
Before he could begin with his task, a strange sight caught his attention from the city below. He turned, and looked southward. Distantly, his sensitive eyes could see a plume of smoke rising from the city horizon, and a very soft glow of orange that indicated a fire. This was from the downed peripheral signaling antenna. The Archmagos narrowed his artificial eyes in suspicion. Just one antenna going down should not have caused such a dramatic outage. Something else had to be at play.
He found himself walking toward the railing at the edge of the roof as the gusty winds buffeted his red robes about him. Curiously, he studied the fire. Something felt terribly off this evening, he thought as he stood near one of the inactive defensive lascannons. He just couldn't shake the feeling that something even worse was about to happen.
The Archmagos continued to breathe deeply for a few moments as he stood on the roof, studying the blaze to the south. Oh well, might as well get to resetting everything, he thought.
And then, he saw it. Just as Null was about to turn away from his observation of the distant fire, his sensitive eyes caught something moving secretly in the darkness. He blinked.
It was a flyer, and all its lights were off as it sped quickly above the city. It was flying at a restricted altitude of about fifty meters under Null's location, and it flew nearly silently just under standard speed, likely using some kind of stealth technology. The eyes of a normal human would never be able to perceive the craft in the dark of the night, but Null was easily able to see it. And, it appeared to be... heading this way?
Null's efficient thought processes were much faster than a normal fleshling's, and quickly, he recognized that a craft flying at such a low altitude would likely be invisible to the Tower of Reason's standard defensive threat radar. But, a threat proximity alert would have been tripped anyway once it was in very close range. That alert would have caused the flyer's automatic destruction by the defensive lascannons beside him. That is, if they have been operational.
With a quick calculation of trajectory, Null recognized that within approximately five seconds, this flyer, if its course remained unaltered, would strike the tower!
Alarm surged through his circuits! The cannons were offline, and the flyer was big enough that it could cause massive damage to structure. Because of the ongoing network instability, this had the potential to permanently damage the Wheeler security network! This was a terrorist action! Someone wanted to assault the Tower of Reason!
Compounding his terror, another explosion lit the city around him. This one was closer, and it lit a portion of the horizon with another incandescent plume of fire!
Evna was under attack!
You have the power, a whisper within guided him then. It wasn't so much an actual whisper, but a sense. Null found himself standing beside one of the cannons. His actions felt automatic as time ticked down, slowed by a rush of adrenaline. The Archmagos quickly located one of its alternate power ports, and with an instant adjustment to the living metal of one of his mechadendrites, he inserted the appendage into the side of the defensive lascannon.
The belt has the power, he knew immediately, and he pulled an override switch, transferring the reliance of the cannon to himself instead of the Tower's power grid.
Null's body felt electrified as the belt began to power the heavy lascannon, which surged back to life! Automatic tracking was still disabled, so he would have to do this manually!
Curse Nimmie for putting me in this position, Null swore internally as he felt the mysterious belt rapidly feed power to the cannon as the darkened flyer as it raced through restricted airspace and toward him! And curse Mars for denying this world funding! Curse their stingy foolishness and curse their ignorance! The cannon greedily drank power from him as it hastily charged! He would only get one shot at this!
A tiny disused aiming lens appeared from a small slot beside the cannon, and Null looked through it as he quickly manually positioned the cannon.
Omnissiah, guide my aim, Null thought quickly as he gently aimed the cannon. Null could now smell the scent of burnt fabric as his robes began to smoulder. The amount of power moving through his body was immense! He watched a spark race down one of his arms.
A tiny notation of "manual charge complete, cannon operational" appeared on the aiming lens. The flyer was rapidly closing the distance, and was nearly here!
Omnissiah, guide me true, Null prayed as he pulled the trigger with his gold hand.
The Archmagos was thrown backward by the force of the cannon's expenditure of energy, roughly disengaging his mechadendrite connection from the defensive weapon. He hadn't been appropriately grounded, and now, parts of his robes were aflame! Unconscious for a few moments, Null came back to himself with a choking gasp. Realizing that his robes were on fire, he hastily rolled on the ground, and patted them out. He had just gotten these new robes! Damn Mars for that too!
A gigantic fireball had exploded directly ahead of the Tower of Reason, causing the entire structure to tremble! Null immediately realized that such a small flier would not normally create such an explosion, and dimly, he noticed traces of green and blue in the flames before him. The flyer had held a powerful and sophisticated explosive, he realized in dismay! A direct hit would not only have crippled the tower, but it would have been destroyed!
He had averted a catastrophic terrorist attack upon the Tower of Reason, Null realized dimly as he stood, smoke rising from his shoulders. Before he could celebrate, his eyes caught another explosion blossoming through the city like a miniature sun in the darkness. Another one, far away, also ignited. And another...
"Omnissiah..." Null gasped in a small strangled voice, holding his gold hand up to his chin in shock. The horror!
Whispering like the wind, a strange intuition passed over him, and then, Null immediately knew the culprit, which did not surprise him. The Family of Liberty!
Elsewhere:
"I don't understand what is happening here," Librarian Rezel replied to Lian's inquiry as they watched another Wheeler servitor as it laughed maniacally before resuming its patrol. "And communications are down again. I cannot get through to the Tower of Reason now."
"Another malfunction. Has anything to this effect happened before tonight?" Paladin Lian asked the Librarian, who held an armored hand to his chin. Tonight, Lian felt strong in his new power armor as he stood with Librarian Rezel while standing guard before the parked Divine Retribution at Port Aubergine. His new armor was entirely black, and for secrecy this evening, the heraldry on his pauldrons and breastplate had been covered with dark tape (which was somewhat messy, but effective), and his white shroud had not been worn. Being publicly visible like this was always somewhat dangerous for Fallen Angels, but the need for armored security at this port was essential this evening, so some precautions were taken to not immediately announce their allegiance to any wandering Imperial eyes.
Rezel shook his head, and walked back to the storage crate that held Lian's helmet. The Librarian handed Lian his helmet. "Unusual situations indeed. I see flashes of fire and smoke in my mind, but I cannot place them," Rezel replied as he glanced in the direction of the Statue of Libertine.
Just this evening, the scaffolding had been completely removed, and now, a pinkish light was being cast over the gold robes of the colossus. Both Lian and Rezel now spoke openly about their unease concerning the statue. Their sharp eyes could even spy movement at the base of the structure far away, even in the shadow of the night. After listening to what the Inheritor had said, Lian was greatly concerned. Had the Family of Liberty been creating a daemonic vessel all this time? Centuries of Chaotic craftsmanship right under the nose of the authorities?
Lian glanced nervously to the signal tower that stood tall atop the port terminal. It was about twenty meters tall, and at its top, a small red light was flickering. Perhaps this was a simple power surge, the Fallen wondered. Above them, a shuttlecraft cleared for entry from orbit soared toward Port Ruby, the closest port location to the Statue of Libertine. Port Ruby was about fifty kilometers south of Port Aubergine, and dealt with more dangerous mercenary traffic than Aubergine, which was devoted to high society guests.
The Fallen watched as Rezel looked upward. The Librarian was examining the unremarkable wide-winged craft soaring above them in the night sky. Along with no heraldry, it held no lights, and appeared to be painted entirely black. Lian felt himself shiver strangely when he looked upon it. "What is that craft above? Can you see?" he whispered to Rezel, who continued to watch it.
"It is shielded," Rezel replied with closed eyes as he tapped his psychic hood. "The most I can tell is that it isn't Imperial, and the wards protecting it from scrying eyes are substantial. Just what we need; another unsavory party entering Evna."
"Maybe one day we will be welcomed once again within our parent legion? Perhaps soon, forgiveness shall reach us so we don't have to skulk in dark places such as this?" Lian offered with a sigh, glancing around the darkened port. Port Aubergine was normally mostly empty at this time, but in the last hour, people had begun to stream into the terminal, filling it up. Small shuttles had landed, and were now in the process of removing groups of nobles to larger ships in orbit. People were leaving Evna, and at this hour, that was unusual. Something about this evening upset Lian, and he nervously clutched Durendal on his back.
Rezel looked back to Lian, and smiled wanly. "Please do your duty with the Inheritor, Lian. Our hopes ride with you when you leave this world."
This sort of talk made the young Paladin secretly uncomfortable. His new duties were immense, and the responsibility expected of him was nearly overwhelming. The circumstances that had set him on this path in life were incredible. It really felt like fate was directing him with a gentle hand onward. He took a deep breath, nodded, and said nothing to the Librarian.
As the dark shuttle passed overhead, Lian's keen hearing picked up a strange sound. It almost sounded like birdsong, but that made no sense in the evening in this urban area. It seemed to be coming from the wide alley that hugged the terminal building. "Did you hear that?" Lian asked.
Rezel was still fixing his senses to the passing shuttle, and blinked as he faced Lian again. "Pardon me, but my attention was on the shuttle. To what are you referring to, Brother?"
"Listen," Lian replied, waiting for the bird to sing again.
The Librarian turned his head. "I hear nothing."
"I could have sworn that I heard something," Lian replied, shaking his head.
"Trust your senses, Lian," Rezel said with a short grin. "From where did you hear this strangeness that causes you to make such a disturbed expression?"
"I think it was a bird. It came from that alley," the Paladin replied, pointing ahead.
"Very well. Let us investigate it then. Always remember to trust in your intuition, Brother Lian. You will certainly need it as you travel forward." Rezel offered a warm comforting grin, which disarmed Lian.
The two Fallen then made their way to the wide dark alley. As a precaution and to assuage his crawling worry, Lian donned his helmet.
"It could have just been a bird," Lian informed Rezel as they approached. The alley was completely dark.
"Do birds drive armored transport?" the Librarian asked as the shape of a large heavy ground vehicle slowly came into view in the shadows. When did that get here? "I do not see much on my end. Maybe it was stolen and abandoned? Theft has been rising in Evna for years now. Stolen shuttles and ground vehicles are often abandoned at the airport when their thieves depart the planet."
Through the oculars in his helmet, Lian could also not see any obvious threat, but something wasn't right here, he knew. Above the vehicle, he heard the birdsong again. It appeared to be a tiny blue bird, and it sang with an almost frantic pitch as it perched atop the transport's roof. Its song was like nothing Lian had ever heard.
"I'm going have a deeper look, Brother," the Librarian said as he held his fingers up to his psychic hood once again.
The two marines advanced cautiously into the dark alley. The bird continued tweet its mad song.
As Rezel concentrated beside him, Lian watched the bird sing, and breathed deeply. This was probably just nothing, and he was overreacting again, making himself look like a fool before the respected Librarian. How could he be of any use to his brothers if everything worried him so like this? I'm still Lian the Cowardly, he cursed himself again. The Paladin breathed deeply again, now allowing the outside air into his helmet to refresh himself, and then, he realized something.
His keen senses caught the faintest chemical whiff of sulfur, ammonia, and ozone. Suspicious, he then dramatically turned up the visual sensitivity and contrast of his oculars, allowing color to be more easily perceived. The Paladin then discovered, with great surprise, that the truck was covered in blue paint. Beneath the messy topcoat, eight-pointed Chaos stars were now faintly visible! Inside the truck, and under shadowed glass, he noticed the form of a blue skinned, horned, and sharp-beaked Chaos beastman slumped over the steering wheel. It was a Tzaangor. A bloody hole pierced the creature's forehead, and the mutant was obviously dead. What was all this about?! He inhaled again, this time testing the air for what he had perceived, and at the very same time, both he and Rezel realized something!
"There's a bomb!" Rezel cried out as Lian also recoiled. The two marines immediately turned around and began to flee from the alley! There were people in the terminal! They had to be evac-!
Lian was violently thrown to the ground from the violent explosion behind him! Momentarily dazed by the impact, the Paladin rolled over and blinked on the tarmac, looking at the sky. Above, he saw the fractured falling shape of the signal tower as it collapsed! The antenna and the surrounding structure of the terminal below it had exploded! The Fallen could now hear screams of terror from within!
"Rezel!" Lian called out in a daze, staggering to his feet. He appeared to be uninjured. "Brother Rezel! We have to-!"
The Paladin turned, and discovered that the Librarian was now pinned under a heavy piece of solid metal from the splintered antenna and pieces of masonry from the terminal building! Lian ran to Rezel, and began to desperately clear the rubble away.
"Lian!" Rezel shouted out, his voice hoarse. "Don't worry about me! The humans inside the terminal! Go! Help them!"
"But, I-"
Rezel then roared inside the young Paladin's mind, Now, Lian! Don't worry about me! I will inform Angel's Respite and the Inheritor!
Still somewhat stunned, Lian turned to dash inside the destroyed terminal, but after only a few leaping strides, three gibbering Wheelers then skated up to him on the tarmac. They reared up threateningly before the Fallen as their projected display faces glitched, and they laughed as their numerous weapons promptly rose from their torsos! Their weapons were then quickly aimed at Lian! "G-glory t-t-to Am'Erika!" the servitors managed to sputter as they madly laughed. Within a moment, however, they seized, and fell to the ground once again!
Lian wasted no time in decapitating each corrupted servitor with his power sword, and began to make his way to the screaming fiery ruin of the Port Aubergine terminal. This was an assault not only against the Divine Retribution, but of Evna itself! No, not only Evna, but to the entire world of Tar Vigaz! Who would organize such a vile act, the Fallen wondered in outrage as he strode into the remains of the building, passing a bisected human torso that twitched in its death throes.
The Paladin's eye was again drawn to the pale light that surrounded the base of the far away Statue of Libertine. The Family of Liberty, he intuitively knew immediately!
Elsewhere:
The Nome King had a tummy ache, he noticed with pouting misery as he leaned against the hull of the Grandiloquent Abundance as he sat upon his throne on his bridge. All this stress of traveling was not good for him, and now, his brother was yelling at him again! The maddened monarch had just attempted to ingest some holt molten silver to calm himself and his nausea, but he had only managed to spill it onto his body, where it cooled and solidified. Instead of listening to the bleating of his tiresome brother, Roquat continued to watch his glowing staff instead. He wondered what the alien with his belt was doing to cause it to react with such luminosity.
"...And another thing, my mad brother! We do not need to race with such speed, but we do need to stop somewhere as we go along! Why do you insist on not stopping at one of the fleshy worlds we passed? If you already know precisely where the thief of your belt hides, then why rush like this? My people are listless, they are hungry, and now, one of my cruisers has been destroyed by your foolish impulses! And..."
Roquat still wasn't listening to Valgûl as he complained. Why was he always so negative?
The large Necron fleet was currently out of hyperspace after destroying its third star as it tore through the galaxy, bolting furiously toward the planet that the Nome King had indicated. An assessment was being made to see if any more ships had been damaged, and both Roquat and his brother had discovered that each had lost some of their population to their mad dash through space. Due to a miscalculation by one of the Crypteks of Roquat's forces, one of Valgûl's larger ships had even somehow slammed directly into a giant red star, incinerating it and all the Flayed Ones aboard.
Roquat admittedly felt bad about this, and his nerves were now causing him to have a bellyache as he sat on his throne watching his staff glow. Valgûl continued to lecture him. The Nome King had already apologized, so the matter was settled, of course! Roquat said he was sorry, so what was the big deal? His brother was just being entirely unreasonable right now, and fixating on silly mistakes of the past, which was yet another sign of Valgûl's unfortunate mental illness. Since the Flayer Lord was being entirely unreasonable, the Nome King wasn't listening to his brother's angry raving. Roquat continued to watch his glowing staff, curious about what the thief was doing with his magic belt. It was so pretty when it glowed!
"Are you even listening to me, Roquat?" Valgûl then asked angrily. He pointed a sharp finger rudely into Roquat's face. The Nome King gently pushed the Flayer Lord's finger away, annoyed at this rudeness.
"Yes," the Nome King lied. "Your impatient people want to go and have a costume party and a feast like they enjoy doing from time to time, and I'm telling you that they need to be patient! Of course they have their customs and traditions, but there is no need to act with such testy anger! We'll get there, and they'll have their party, most certainly! Aren't we going fast enough for you?"
Valgûl was about to scream more obscenities, but then, a repeating beep was heard through the bridge. Kaliko gently informed the Nome King that another Necron ship was approaching them as they hung in deep space. Roquat's attention was finally pulled away from his staff.
"Who is this now, Roquat? My people do not like distractions! Their hunger is vast, and they grow ever more ravenous!" Valgûl asked angrily as the Nome King stood from his throne, and walked to the large display on his bridge. A green shimmering image of a familiar vessel appeared before him. It was a wide black and green crescent, which was typical for spacefaring Necrons. But, this vessel had a distinctive and familiar pattern of lights illuminating its wide hull, one that he had seen before. Ah, this person was a friend! What a pleasant surprise!
"This is a friend of mine, my dear angry brother! Certainly we can wait and have a small chat over tea?" Roquat replied happily. "He's probably in the neighborhood and just wants to say hello! Have you ever met Orikan the Diviner before? He's the most famous Chronomancer in the galaxy!"
"The Diviner?" Valgûl intoned, straightening up. "You're friends with the Diviner? How did you manage that?"
Roquat nodded happily. "Oh yes! He helped me on Nome to overcome Trazyn's evil. He's the one that helped me to set up a trap to find out who was stealing from me!"
The Flayer Lord turned his head, unsure. He then stepped away from the bridge, and shook his head. The beeping continued, and two of his Crypteks expectantly watched him, waiting for orders. One of these was his loyal Chief Steward Kaliko, an Arch-Cryptek of great wisdom who stood nearby, always ready to serve his monarch. The Nome King gestured toward him, and the Chief Steward bowed as he approached. Roquat then said, "Do allow the transmission through, Kaliko!"
"Yes sire," the Chief Steward replied, his voice hollow. Poor Kaliko did not seem to be very happy right now. Valgûl's negative mood was probably rubbing off on him, Roquat concluded. Kaliko gave an instruction to the other Crypteks on the bridge, and the large screen before them came to life.
On screen, the Diviner's distinct one-eyed face appeared. The Chronomancer waved his staff in a greeting, and Roquat returned the gesture with a motion of his own staff with a bright smile. The Diviner spoke in a very genial tone, "Greetings to you, Roquat the Red, king of the energetic and passionate Nome people! I see now that you travel with alongside what appears to be a Flayer fleet. Is... eh... everything alright?"
"Everything is just grand, Orikan! The Flayers are following me. I invited them, and I also have my family with me tonight! We're on a bit of a righteous crusade, and feeling optimistic! Have you met my brother yet?" the Nome King cheerfully asked.
"That is... interesting news, to say the least! I was simply concerned that you might not know about the large fleet of Flayers that were following your glorious capitol ship. Those Necrons can be quite sneaky at times! And you didn't tell me that you had a brother when we met earlier, but I would love to meet him sometime," the Diviner replied in a happy flattering tone. "I know we did not get much of a chance to get to know one another on your Tomb World, but maybe you and your brother might-"
The Diviner immediately stopped his fawning when Valgûl then stepped into view of the screen, and stood beside Roquat. One of the Flayer Lord's lychguards also came into view, gnashing and gibbering beside him while moaning quietly in hunger. This caused Orikan's grin to drop for a moment, but he then recovered. The Flayer Lord straightened before the projection of the Diviner, and said: "Well met, Diviner. Maybe you also know of me? My name is Valgûl, and I am also known as the Flayer Lord of Drazak. My people follow me on a Time of Bounty, and soon, we shall feast. I've heard much about you. To answer your question, my brother and I are well and there are no problems. What is it you desire?"
"Eh, well," the screen flickered briefly. The Diviner appeared intimidated by the Flayer Lord.
"Ah look, Orikan is being shy in front of new people! I definitely understand that!" the Nome King laughed beside Valgûl, who continued to stare at the projection dispassionately with his single burning red eye. "So, I've got an idea: How about we prepare one of our teleportariums for your convenience, Orikan? I always prefer in person conversations instead of remote socializations. Would you like to have tea with my brother and I? A personal meeting is just so much more grand than this soulless method of communication!"
"No, no, no, Roquat! That's quite alright actually, dear friend!" Orikan hastily said, his earlier eagerness to meet completely vanishing. He eyed the gibbering Flayed One beside Valgûl as it moaned piteously in hunger yet again.
"Are you sure? It is no trouble! I'd love to have you!"
"I have decided that I do not want to trouble you with any expenditure of energy that you likely need, my friend," Orikan replied hastily. "After all, I can tell that you're going somewhere in quite a hurry! By my calculations, three systems have been annihilated by your expeditious passage through the galaxy. I just happened to be in the area, and I would like to know if everything is alright. Why run like this?"
"Yes, why indeed?" Valgûl grumbled beside his brother.
"An alien stole a precious artifact from me, and naturally, I want it back. I can sense where it is at the present, and so, I'm running to retrieve my precious! On top of this, a vault of my valuables was broken into as well. Same world!" Roquat quickly said as he felt his anger begin to roil again. They stole his precious!
The Flayer Lord stepped forward, speaking to the projection in a confident voice. "My mad brother and his Chief Steward inform me that Gir'Auda has reawoken, and he states that he wishes to destroy it as it flies through the galaxy." Valgûl coldly informed the projection of the Diviner. Roquat angrily turned toward his brother, upset that the Flayer Lord had revealed that the Nome King was upset over something. That was entirely unnecessary!
Orikan did not reply for a short time, and tapped his metal fingers against the staff. "So," he cautiously began. "What do you remember of your history, Valgûl? About Gir'Auda?"
"What does this have to do with anything, Diviner?" Valgûl growled cantankerously.
"What if I told you that what Roquat said was true, and that Gir'Auda flies again? And what if I tell you again that the Equerry is not our enemy? It hasn't been since before the Great Sleep."
"How could you say that!?" the Nome King immediately interjected with a dramatic cry. "The hated Equerry shattered Nome! My primary Tomb has been violated, sundered, destroyed! How could you say that such a vile creation of the hated Old Ones is not evil?"
Roquat was now getting angrier. He wasn't mad before, but now he was! Why was the Diviner being so rude all the sudden?
"Times change, friend," Orikan replied softly through the transmission. "Valgûl, I will inform you now that what Roquat says is indeed true. The Equerry of the Old Ones does fly. It has a female human captain. My suggestion is to stay away from it. Let her pass. Its captain does not want a war with the Necron race, and I have foreseen good outcomes for our people if she is allowed to attend to her errands. She's a Plane Walker, and a unifying anathema against the forces of Chaos. We need all the help we can get against the forces of the Empyrean right now, so prohibit your Flayers from touching her."
"But, how...?" the Flayer Lord slowly asked. "Gir'Auda wars against Chaos?" Valgûl quietly wondered more to himself than to Orikan.
"I told you the truth that the Equerry flies once again, ridiculous brother of mine! Your morose depression makes you blind to things that are directly in front of you!" Roquat angrily spat at the Flayer Lord with such anger that Valgûl's lychguard then stepped forward, placing his body between both brothers. "And do you believe a word of what the Diviner says about Gir'Auda not wanting a war? My damned planet was shattered by it! It is obvious that the Equerry wants a war with the Necron race, and she released the first salvo against us already!"
"Calm yourself, brother," Valgûl quietly requested as his twitching lychguard stood before him protectively. "Do not lose your temper."
"I am not losing my temper!" Roquat screamed as he stamped his metal foot against the floor of his bridge. "Has the galaxy gone mad?! I feel as if I am the only voice of reason around here! I'm certain it is diabolical Old One sorcery that is poisoning your minds, my fellows! Orikan, surely you must not believe the things that you say? Surely this is a poor idea of a joke against me! I am not laughing!"
No one spoke. Standing nearby, the Chief Steward's single eye nervously lashed between Orikan, Roquat, and Valgûl, as the Cryptek watched this confrontation on the bridge in concern.
The Flayer Lord cautiously broke the tense silence. "Maybe it would be better if you continued along your way, Diviner?" he cautiously suggested to the projection as he offered a small, but somewhat dismissive gesture toward his brother. This caused the Nome King to snap completely. Roquat reeled back and struck Valgûl's personal lychguard in the face with the butt of his staff! As the Flayer lychguard raised his clawed hands to fight back, one of the Nome King's personal guards immediately jumped into the melee, furiously pummeling the Flayer lychguard in defense of his monarch. Another of Roquat's lychguard then charged angrily at the Flayer Lord with a metal scream, who was in turn also then defended by another of his guards.
Kaliko sadly watched as the bridge then descended into yet another mindless brawl. The Chief Steward turned to the display, and spoke to Orikan, who was watching this unfold impassively, almost as if he had entirely expected this outcome. "You should probably go," the Arch-Cryptek quietly suggested.
Orikan nodded as he watched the furious brawl on the bridge. It was quite obvious that no one was paying attention to the Diviner as the two maddened Necron brothers clawed, kicked, and punched each other like wild animals. "Very well, Steward Kaliko. Just don't run toward your destination at your current ridiculous speed, and be careful during your transitions into realspace. Consider using Dolmen Gates instead, and stop shredding stars, please. You're causing disruptions in my horoscopes when you destroy celestial bodies."
"Understood. I'll tell them when they calm down," Kaliko curtly replied with a short bow, and the transmission was cut off.
Inside Orikan the Diviner's bridge, another single-eyed Chronomancer approached the Diviner, his expression shining in relief. "Did we distract him long enough?"
Orikan grinned happily. "By my calculations, yes. They will now not reach their destination in time to conquer Gir'Auda. This action has brought the Equerry enough time to escape."
"Rather short of a window, don't you think?" the Cryptek said as he displayed a small metal orb. A series of symbols and signs danced across its surface.
"As long as Gir'Auda escapes Roquat's madness, I am pleased. If more trouble emerges that I have not foreseen, I am certain that the God of Fate will preserve the existence of his current favorite toy. He is still building her up, and will be for some time."
"Gir'Auda is a threat against all of Chaos. Why does that foul spirit continue to aid the Equerry?" the Cryptek questioned thoughtfully.
"Arrogance," Orikan said, relaxing against his throne. "He wishes to let all know that even creatures such as fate-bending Plane Walkers are under his thrall. It is a spectacular brag against all creation and all dimensions, I believe. My current prediction is that he will raise her to the highest heights before dashing her to ruin, much like what he did with her predecessor. His fate was most tragic, both his rise and fall meteoric."
"I do hope that this time around is different," the Cryptek said heavily. "Maybe the humans will save us all in the end?"
"I hope as well," Orikan replied, leaning back heavily on his command chair. "Unfortunately, I cannot see the path that lies too far ahead in this instance with Gir'Auda. But, for all our sakes, I do not want the wheel to grind in the same pattern as it did before. There has to be hope for us in this downtrodden reality somehow."
"Yes. While I may not agree with you in all things, Diviner, you are wise in this matter indeed. To have just a spark of hope is to feel the dream of a new tomorrow," the Cryptek artistically replied with a bow, and then, departed the room.
Orikan closed his eyes, and slipped into his mind, trying to remember what the emotion of hope properly felt like from when he had a soul millions of years ago. Only a shadow of it remained within him, just as the faintest shadow of it persisted in the present galaxy. The smallest star in the darkness of space might still guide the lost to salvation, he thought poetically.
And that shadow of hope needed all the help it could get.