Ursarkar E. Creed

To be entirely sure, as he felt the inquisitor's eyes on him (and that of the Space Marines), he did not entirely see the entire point. Okay, the pylons were ancient anti-warp xeno-technology, a part of that something that he would quietly forgive because it would allow them to better fight that which he hated the most. And it turned out that said xeno species, the Necrons, were till around and one was willing to assist in getting the pylons operational, as xeno abomination or not, as it turns out, they hated Chaos as more than they looked down at and hated humanity.

And yes, some would say that him feeling that this was understandable may be heretical, but he was a solider. He and his forces would kill the xeno. Chaos did things that warped and corrupted the soul, spirit and mind, whatever it was that the xeno even had. One of those was worse than the other. And so that this... Necron Lord was offering not merely assistance to the tech-priests, but military assistance on a temporary basis?

Yes, he was considering the offer, no matter how bad it looked like from a future prospects perspective. Well, if the enemy one, he would not be in a position to do anything, and if the world lived and the Archenemies plans were halted? Well, his life for the Imperium, it would be a worthy trade. "What sort of assistance are you offering to destroy the Black Crusade?"

Because as he was selling his life, he may as well get a good price from it, the figure nodding. It was more gaudy than regal, the voice replying over the vox. "Ah, well, that is the thing, isn't it? At first, I had just thought to offer what was under the bounds of Honorable Warfare. And then I remembered." There was something, as he felt his hair stand on end, as something rippled, as the shadows of things could be made out. Fractal geometries of pure mathematics imposing themselves onto lower realities. "If what I suspect would happen here occurs, the already slim chances of my old friend awakening would lower even further."

He was not sure who that old friend was, nor why that was important, metal warbeasts and strange shapes made of voids and unmatter appearing in the void. "So, I decided to open one of the vaults containing that... ah, how do you humans phrase it... ah, yes, the Good Shit." Another pause, as a figure of gold, a seated on a lotus appeared in orbit, a vast installation speaking out metaphysical truths to reinforce the real. "Not my own mind you, but from the Terran Federation collection. He would have loved to see some of the things in action once more, even if... well, war was never their intended purpose."

The shadows writhed with unseen threads and eyes, shrouded from perception, the gaps in space forming into a singularity that was a spider and its eyes over the entire system, threads weaving through their agurs and communications, updating and showing everything in real time. Still, Creed was bold, as he looked at what was apparently a xeno deploying works of the ancients. Including what seemed to be stylized human void titans. "Ah, who exactly is your friend?"

A question that was drawing all eyes, the calculations and plans to liberate the technology ready to gain this new variable. "Ah. Forgive me. As it is, it has been a while since I was able to match wits with him, but I believe he went and made himself your emperor ten thousand years ago?"

Across the room, and in other ships listening into the communications, minds halted at the implication that the God-Emperor was ever friends with a Xeno... even as he was providing a miracle!

Terra

On the Golden Throne, an old man had no face but had to palm. Seriously, the fucking thief kept rummaging through his drawers and closets and running off with random shit and he kept making better security measures to try and keep him out. That was the extent of their relationship and it did not make them friends!