"My presumed heresy began where such heresies were predicted to have always began. Stygies VIII, the forge world bathed in eternal night. Illuminated only by the beating machine heart of its forges. A moon wreathed in equal count secrets and blood. From the first retaliatory strikes the Stygians fired against the Death Watch and onward to their neverending battle of wills with the Inquisition, I have always admired them."
- From, De Rebus Machinis et Xenaritis. Written by Archmagos Battista Albrecht Ghetaldi, 348.M36
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838.M39
Thick smog and black exhaust strangled the air of the manufactorum line. Menials worked miserably under the steel gaze of the Secutors. Thrumming power permeated every inch of machinery and weaponry. The behemoth assembly lines were eternally producing blessed machine parts, all for the eternal war of the 39th millennium. Archmagos Battista Ghetaldi stalked the searing hot assembly lines, marveling at the blessed machines at work. Servitors attended where needed, and secutors maintained the bondsmen who kept the forges burning. A robed acolyte followed him, his augments were relatively new and not as numerous as many within the Cult Mechanicum.
However, his apprentice was spirited. A rare find from the Skitarii Corps, one worthy of rebirth into the priesthood of Mars. He had only awoken from his reconstruction mere decades prior, a blink to the tech priests. Now the new priest had been traveling with the old Archmagos to the various forge worlds, learning each of their ways before they returned to mars for him to specialize in a more specific field. They had decided to journey to the secretive moon of Stygies VIII. The reclusive priests there trusted the Archmagos, at least to a limited extent. They'd agreed to teach the younger priest on the condition that Battista assist them in analyzing some recovered technology.
"Notice how their forges operate almost indistinguishable from any other forge world's … Yet we both know that to be a lie. The Xenarites are quite good at hiding in plain sight when the need arises, with the switch of a black robe for a red robe… A Stygian Skitarii is suddenly a Martian Skitarii. For the past eight-thousand years the Xenarites have moved through the Cult Mechanicum and Imperium at large undetected."
The apprentice scoffed, "Their ways border on Heretek in every conceivable manner. All of the Cult Mechanicum knows what they do with tech that belongs to the vile xenos." Archmagos Battista shook his head solemnly, "Tell me, do you doubt the Omnissiah?"
The apprentice paused and began to sputter out of the surprise of being asked such an audacious question. "Clearly you do not, therefore is it not by the will of the great three in one that all things exist? The xenos included?"
They came to a stop at a glowing pyramid shaped device made of blackstone, Necron glyphs slowly pulsed across it. The tech priests were analyzing the accursed device, where most priests would simply harvest the blackstone and destroy anything that remained. "Such things were all the design of the machine god, as were the inferior xenos, the ancient nephilimech, and the magnum opus of humanity. It was the machine god that placed these great works here, in the hands of xenos to maintain while he toiled to create us. Now that we have arrived, we realize the Eldar especially have become corrupted by their greed, they cling to machine spirits that do not belong to them. The Omnissiah wills that we take back the machinery that is rightfully ours…" The Archmagos turned back to his apprentice.
"Or so the Xenarites believe."
"Master," Asked the younger priest, "are you a Xenarite? I was under the impression you were of holy Mars." Were the Archmagos able to smile, he would. But he'd given up his old face millennia ago, instead the facsimile of a chuckle rumbled from his vox. "No, I am not a Xenarite. But one need not join the priests of the Segmentum Pacificus to understand their ways. Learn all that the forge worlds have to offer, broaden your knowledge. This is the holiest charge the Omnissiah lays upon all his loyal creations, even the unenlightened have similar pursuits."
A metal hand came to lay on the shoulder of the apprentice's Martian red robes. "Just promise me one thing Quill, even the lowest of machines is a construct of holy significance. It is common for many priests to forget this in the grandeur of an Ark Mechanicum. That's why in the very next battle a faulty vox caster can destroy them and render their great machines little more than salvage. Never forget to value all works of the Omnissiah, even those we place into our servants."
027.M42
Rapid beating wings of the Archaeopter slowed the descent of Quill and his close associates. The scene that laid before them was already a brutal warzone. Though the tomb had just recently begun to awaken, resistance from the Canoptek constructs was ferocious. The responding waves of lesser ranked Skitarii had been thoroughly crushed in the initial invasion, but the better experienced veteran cohorts that backed them up had managed to establish a defensive foothold outside the massive tomb constructs.
Quill's briefing said this was a world formerly belonging to the "Atornikh" dynasty. A dynasty at constant civil war with another Necron he'd come to blows with. The opportunity to accidentally assist Gauritekh didn't bother him, so long as the vile Nephilimech were killed he was satisfied. The noosphere rang with a low, quiet song. The calm before the storm. Soon, it would be filled with deafening hymns to the Omnissiah's glory.
His vox buzzed and he was hailed by the Explorator Majoris,
"Magos, this planet was the location of an astartes waystation, there are few survivors but they have offered to lend assistance in crushing the Necron threat before it begins. Rendezvous with them at the front lines, bring a small team lest you set off the tomb's mass threat responses. Unit β will remain at the frontline to direct Skitarii forces. Once your mission is completed we will be able to destroy the majority of the Necrons before they can awaken. Time is of the essence, delay too long and we will be overrun. Even our forces cannot hold back an entire tomb, you will receive your targets and objectives when you meet with the Astartes squadron. Dismissed, Magos. Glory to the Machine God."
His vox died before he could respond in kind, he glanced aside in time to see Pythagoras programming his Kastelans and conversing with other members of the Legio Cybernetica. "Marshall Epsilon, you are to remain with the Skitarii and prepare an assault. I will be performing Sabotage with the Omnissiah's Angels, though I cannot say that was expected. Take my cyberhound with you." Epsilon saluted as Unit GR-37Δ broke from Quill to stand at Epsilon's side. "As you will, Magos. We will bring glory to the Omnissiah this day."
With that the two went their separate ways, Epsilon turned to approach the Skitarii gunline and Quill's spider-like legs carried him towards a grounded Thunderhawk with blast marks scarring its wings and hull. The telltale signs of gauss fire and molecular disintegration marred the dropship. Five Astartes stood outside, waiting for the Magos, their dark green armor emblazoned with the emblem of the First Legion. Sons of the Lion prepared to avenge this xenos aggression. As he approached, the most decorated of the marines clapped a fist over his chest plate and slightly bowed a head to the magos.
"Magos, it is a pleasure to see friendly reinforcements in this dire time. The sons of the Lion heed the call to battle alongside the servants of the Machine God. I am Sergeant Azracai, commander of this squad." Azracai hefted a large thunder hammer onto his shoulder, Quill took the opportunity to analyze the marine. He was clearly a Dark Angel with numerous decorations and trophies adorning his armor, including one black pauldron with the Dark Angels veteran emblem in dark green instead of the usual red. Each of his men had a similar black pauldron.
Sergeant Azracai motioned towards a marine in Apothecary's armor, "Brother Haradia, please, come and brief the Magos on our current situation." A marine in stark white First Legion apothecary armor stood from his previously kneeling position. The Apothecary adjusted his Narthecium gauntlet and walked past a hulking figure in dark green Mk. X Gravis Armor, loading a belt of ammunition into a Heavy Bolter while sitting on a munitions crate marked with the universal Imperial symbols for high explosives. The Apothecary saluted, distracting Quill from his curiosity.
"Well met, Magos Tahr'kull. Your Explorator Majoris has informed us you'll be our guide on this mission." Quill cleared his throat, a wholly unnecessary action but he thought it was an appropriate way to cut into the conversation.
"My knowledge of Astartes protocol was very different. This is not standard squad makeup, you were the Astartes who ran the waystation, yes?" Haradia nodded to Quill, "Technically Magos, we are not an official squad." Quill pointed at the Apothecary's black pauldron and waited expectantly.
Another marine, holding an immaculately kept flamer, assisted the Sergeant with some last minute gear checks before approaching the Apothecary and Tech Priest. "Allow me to explain, Magos Dominus. Our team members were all part of other squads. Over time, Xenos incursions dwindled our numbers, leaving just the five of us."
Sergeant Azracai nodded, "Thanks to Brother Armaros here, we were able to take back the communications relay and our Epistolary Brother Lazaron was able to hail the nearest Imperium force. It is only by the Emperor's grace an entire explorator fleet was nearby to assist us."
Brother Lazaron spoke up, "Our black pauldrons are in memory of our fallen brothers. May the Emperor guide their souls to eternal rest. We remain, and must carry on in their stead." Quill nodded, "A noble enough cause, but I am a bit surprised you managed to convince Lord Anaxagoras to divert from our expected trajectory."
"In the final days before the full awakening began, we found evidence that a relic of the olden times was located here deep beneath the surface of the planet. That is how we convinced your Explorator Majoris to lend us your fleet's strength." Sergeant Azracai said. Quill's posture shifted immediately, "You found evidence of holy Archeotech… You have my thanks, sons of the Lion. The Adeptus Mechanicus will aid you in your time of need, in exchange we want full cooperation in excavation of the STC Fragment." Azracai nodded in affirmation, they had a deal.
There was little else on this planet of value now that the waystation lay in smoldering ruins miles away. Quill's datastream flooded with new information from the fleet in high orbit, their task was to prepare numerous explosive charges at key points in the tomb, eliminate the presiding overlord, and destroy the source of the Canoptek abominations. Once these objectives are done the rest of the explorator fleet will collapse the tomb's stasis chambers to end the Necrons before they have the chance to come to full force.
"We have our mission parameters, the Omnissiah demands perfection. We will be the ones to deliver it." All five of the Astartes saluted and began the trek down to the tomb world's entrance. A monolithic opening leading to pitch darkness, Quill had been in such a construct before. In previous attempts at battling the Necrons they'd been run off after unacceptable losses against the Necron leader Gauritekh. This time they had backup and a holy objective. Once inside, the deep green glow of Blackstone construction brightened their way. Reflecting off the Ceramite of the five marines or the aged metal augmetics of the magos.
"Tell me, Magos… What is this STC Fragment we're hunting for?" Asked Azracai. Quill shrugged, "Even we do not know yet, the Explorator Majoris believes whatever it is you've learned of is important enough to dedicate soldiers to on the chance it exists. Not the guarantee, that means it's likely something that could secure our holdings on Mars for the next millennium to come." Azracai retorted with a scoff, "I believe it more important we destroy these things, should we lose here we will allow a malevolent force of untold power to fester in the middle of Imperium space. Focus your efforts on eradication of the Xenos. Only then will we assist in your search for technology." Quill couldn't argue, these Necrons must be exterminated before they wrenched the holy STC Fragment from the fleet's reach.
Lines of Skitarii prepared their weapons, untold thousands of robed metallic soldiers in perfect coordination mounted their guns, prepared energy weapons, and ran final checks on vehicles in preparation for the coming battle. For the past several hours they had bottlenecked the scattered Necron footsoldiers and their Canoptek defenders. Their lack of coordination or battle plans made Epsilon think their overlord had yet to awaken. Should the tomb's master arrive and coordinate the abominations their defenses would be swept away like footprints in a martian sandstorm. That meant he had to prepare a battle strategy quickly. What he didn't understand was why he had been told to organize the defense. A group of Skitarii Alpha approached him and knelt, with heads bowed.
"High Marshall, Skitarii units awaiting commands for defense. Our orders are to hold until the priest conclaves make planetfall, for now we must buy them time to finish their holy communion." Ah, Epsilon thought. That's why. The majority of the Tech and Electro priests were still preparing themselves for the oncoming battle, but… High Marshall? That made no sense. There were ranking officials above him. That was what he thought until he noticed the salvage crew dismantling the previous High Marshall. Making him the ranking commander of the Skitarii legions for now. This was good, he always did enjoy orchestrating a battle. A holy battle was all the better. Epsilon connected to the network of Skitarii. Datastreams and Noospheric code billowed into the air, he saw everything before him and began sending commands to each Skitarii squad nearby. It was overwhelming, his augmetics were at their limit of data but something was different. Whatever the Magos Dominus had done to him had made him better at interpreting this data. Instead of seeing just the protocols and datastreams, he began to interpret it in ways he never had before.
"Sicarian forces, numerous egress points identified for the Nephilimech. Destroy them immediately. Ranger corps establish sniper points and prevent any stragglers from flanking the line. Serbyrus teams prepare to crush their frontline. They will have foul Crypteks soon enough, we must be ready to decapitate their counterattack whenever it arrives." His commands were carried out immediately, lockstep Skitarii and chittering stilt legged Sicarians sped off with sabotage payloads prepared to funnel the Necrons into the killbox.
This was his element, something in the back of his mind knew he was good at this and to express it after so long of following rigid protocol felt… Good. To him, it felt like a home he'd long forgotten. The more he directed soldiers, the more his plan came together, the more he realized. They'd stripped him of this talent, and as that realization grew so too did his silent rage.
A rip in realspace opened in a hidden chamber of the The Voltaic Herald, out of which jumped Caenryx. Landing silently, but wincing regardless. That wound in his leg was still sore despite their best medical efforts. Following him out of the webway was Fiachyth, who landed much more gracefully. "This ship is so…. Primitive…" Said Fiachyth as she examined the monolithic halls. Emblems of a skull split between bone and machine with a cog around it covered everything. Symbols of their mechanical god. Caenryx chuckled, "Yeah, it's kinda funny. These Mon'Keigh do things to themselves and each other that I would. Look at that one."
Caenryx pointed at a person, their eyes glazed over, jaw slack with a thin line of drool flowing out of their mouth. They were heavily grafted with machinery, with no life to them. They didn't even seem to notice the two's presence. Fiachyth grimaced, "What's wrong with them? They look…" Caenryx walked over to the Servitor and flicked them in the head, "Like a pain slave a few years past their usefulness?"
"I was going to say they look braindead…" Caenryx shrugged and walked towards a towering door, which the blinded mass of metal and flesh that might have at one time been a human dutifully opened with a low lazy groan. "They call them Servitors, it's what they do to dissidents, violent prisoners, traitors, or those this cult deems heretical. Pretty awful fate, the misery it inflicts is subtle yet in a way I doubt the humans even intended, genius. Deep in the recesses of their brains there's a small glimmer of themselves, screaming in terror at what they have become…" As much as Caenryx tried, he couldn't help but start laughing at the Servitor. Fiachyth was less amused and far more horrified and began to raise her shuriken pistol, "We should kill it, in case it notices us and alerts the rest of the Mon'Keigh."
In a blink, Caenryx went from by the door to next to Fiachyth. A hand laid on the barrel of her weapon, and shoved it back down. "Don't get ahead of yourself limpy. I've dealt with this kind before, kill them and that's what sets off the alarms. Let's just go." Caenryx grabbed Fiachyth by the arm and all but dragged her into the sanctum. The cavernous room was bathed in blue light from the immense amount of electricity spilling from a huge generator in the center. There, nine humans knelt with arms out. Generator coils sat on their backs, circuitry embedded in their skin, wires ran all over their garments, and copper coils were attached to their wrists like bracelets. Many of them wore blindfolds, a few of them had their eyelids stitched shut, and a far fewer number of them had eyes that were pale, gray, and useless. Caenryx looked around the room while sneaking around the procession, the stench of Ozone permeated the air.
"Huh… Can't say I knew about this. Wait, you hear that?" The head of a staff slammed into the wall right next to Caenryx's head, making him pause. Another of these blinded Mon'Keigh stood before him. "Xenos Intruders! Defend the inner sanctum and alert the Magos Dominus!"
Clanging footsteps echoed through the beyond ancient blackstone halls of the crypt, Magos Quill led the way, having a readout of the tomb in view through the datastream. Scouting teams had sent deep scans into the ground to try and map out the winding tunnels, the Magos intended to use this to plot the most efficient course possible. Occasionally his eradication ray decimated an idle Canoptek worker, or one of the marines crushed a lone scarab underfoot. Though for the time the tomb didn't seem to realize their intrusion, Quill knew that would change in time, so they had to work quickly.
"Priority targets have been uploaded to your armor, remember, we need to place the explosives as we go to our other objectives." Araleal patted the munitions crate he had hefted onto his shoulder. "We should have everything we need here Magos, we've been supplied with enough charges to bring down a city section. Just tell us where to apply them." Quill stopped suddenly and pointed at a pillar, "There." He said, the metallic tang of his voice sounding harsh, but mildly amused at the fives' reactions. Briefly after, the explosive was in place and Quill simply continue on his way.
"Magos Dominus…" asked Azracai, "Why have we not been attacked yet? Do these tombs not ferociously resist all intruders?"
"It's simple, we're nothing compared to the army above ground. With the Necron leadership still asleep they have little resembling organization. Their first instinct is to lash out at the loudest enemy. We're going to use that for as long as possible, I'm sure once we run across a sufficiently large canoptek construct we will create enough noise to be worth the tomb's attention." Almost by providence, Quill noticed something slinking through the darkened corners of the tomb. A long construct, with too many legs. A singular green eye illuminated as the unliving beast coiled around the walkway and reared to its full height. Sharpened metal legs thrashed in the air and metal chittering signified the creature was analyzing them. Twin Gauss Cannons mounted to its sides charged with power, causing the group to scatter.
"What in the name of the Emperor is that thing?!" Shouted Lazaron, taking cover behind a blackstone pillar with Azracai. Quill's servo skull turned to face the Dark Angel, "Necron Construct form, Tomb Stalker. Data limited, attack construct previously unknown to Mechanicum databases. Abominant machine designated as defensive extermination drone. Treat with extreme violence." Lazaron sighed, "I did ask. Magos, Sergeant, what is our plan?!" The monstrous creature screeched and charged forward. Araleal shoved the crate of explosives aside, pulled his massive boltgun into a two handed grip, and rounded the corner to unleash a frenzy of shots. Shells slammed into the Necron construct and exploded, damaging the thing's carapace but didn't stop its charge. Quill carefully aimed his eradication ray, and fired a thin beam of green energy at one of the thing's legs right as it tried using it. This made the canoptek stumble very minorly but it still came close. Claws slashed out at Araleal, the boom of a jump pack preceded the head of a thunder hammer slamming into the Tomb Stalker, knocking it and Araleal aside. Azracai's jump pack flared again, sending him straight up. He hefted the hammer high and slammed it down onto the Tomb Stalker. It thrashed around and lashed out. Azracai was caught by one of its rear legs and he went flying back.
Quill turned to address the Dark Angels, "It's too mobile to kill easily, rip out its legs!" A blast of Gauss fire slammed against Quill's Blackstone cover "And by the Omnissiah, destroy those vile cannons!" The entourage flew into action. Lazaron rushed in, the Tomb Stalker slammed its bulk down onto him. The Epistolary threw up a psychic barrier, slashing out at the beast's legs taking three off in a single swing. It skittered away to lunge at Quill with its mandles. The Magos slammed the head of his power axe into its mechanical eye. It didn't break through, but it gave the stalker enough pause for Quill to back off, just out of striking range on his spider-like limbs.
"Brother Armaros!" Shouted Azracai, "We will keep the monster distracted, your flamer will be of no use here. Prepare your chain sword to sever its foul weapons!" Boltor fire, plasma bolts, electrical energy, and power weapon strikes kept the beast at bay. It raged against the intruders, but could not overpower them. However, the six couldn't kill it either. Each time they attempted a killing blow the thing spun its Gauss Cannons around and sent the attacker running for cover from the de-atomizing energy. Azracai ducked behind a newly created pile of blackstone rubble next to Armaros. "Are you ready, Brother?" Armaros nodded. Azracai held his hammer out, with the head vertical. Armaros stepped one foot onto the hammer's head, Azracai began to swing the hammer up with all his strength. At the same time his jump pack flared back to life with burning power, the combined thrust of Azracai's swing and the jump pack's boost launched Armaros up into the air high above the construct that raged against its own demise.
The armored warrior slammed into the stalker's back, his chainsword revved in anticipation. Metal teeth screamed and sparks billowed out from where the weapon met Necrodermis. One Gauss Cannon flung off to the side, and the stalker began to attempt to throw Armaros off. The other Dark Angels pressed their attack to ensure the advantage was held, and once more the chainsword chewed through the connection between monster and weapon. Once both were disconnected the creature was brought low. Battle damage had weakened it to the point of immobility. One last fusillade from their weapons left the ocular of the creature a sparking charred pit. The six slowly and shakily recollected.
"Is everyone alright?" Asked Azracai. "Perfectly fine," Quill responded, "As close as that was, we cannot slow down. Now we know for certain that the tomb is aware of us, and given we just destroyed a sentinel construct it's going to treat us as a legitimate threat. We must press onward, the next objective isn't far. Follow me and keep aware of your surroundings." The marines nodded and fell into formation to march after the Magos further into the hostile pit.
A blast sent a wave of dust scattering over the battlefield, numerous points of entry collapsed to impassable wreckage. The work of the Sicarian Sabotage teams well executed, Epsilon couldn't help but feel satisfied as the ever growing trickle of Necrons became a steady flow walking right into an inescapable zone of death. They were getting further and further as time progressed but for now they had a handle on the opposition. His attention was grabbed at shouting towards the other side of the field. He looked at the tomb, and saw several ghostly machines clawing their way out of the stone like ghosts of ancient legend.
"High Marshall!" One of the lesser officers cried, "Wraiths incoming!" Epsilon's nerves steeled, "Hold your fire, uploading bulwark imperative. Defend to the last, do not let them disrupt the killing field. Conserve ammunition until they reform into realspace." The Mechanicum had known about Canoptek Wraiths for some time, but Epsilon didn't think they would be dispatched outside. This implied there was a higher ranking Necron awake somewhere, overseeing the battle. Not an overlord, something of that rank could awaken the entire tomb at a much faster rate, but a sub commander that could direct Canopteks in a more intelligent manner. Using Wraiths to break their defensive line was clever, but Epsilon could handle it.
"All units perform a fighting retreat away from the wraiths. Do not let them get too close, when they reform for an attack unleash all fire upon them. Dunecrawler crews, focus fire on any airborne targets that come within your targeting range." There were far too many wraiths for this to be random, and they presented the potential for a devastating attack should they be allowed to rampage through the ranks. Especially given more waves of incoming Necrons redoubling their efforts to break out and slam into the exposed and distracted Skitarii legions. The Skitarii were receiving direct protocol updates, when a Wraith approached and became corporeal to attack it was gunned down by enriched uranium rounds from the Vanguard teams. Their warforms reduced to blasphemous scrap. Some wraiths re-solidified with their claws already embedded in a soldier, splitting them apart in one fluid motion before dying themselves. The losses were manageable for the Mechanicus forces but they hurt more with every wraith that came at their line. Intent on destroying the rangers and vehicles that watched the tomb entrance. Epsilon caught a shimmer in his peripheral vision, and barely dodged back in time to miss a Wraith's slash. He put the barrel of his archeotech pistol to the thing's head and sent several shots into it. The Wraith survived but retreated to encircle his command post to try again. Cyberhound GR-37Δ entered a defensive posture and circled in an opposite manner to the attacking sentinel.
Electricity sparked everywhere, every metal surface attracted tendrils of power. The energy formed a visible web in the air. The blind Mon'Keigh began to hum, mimicking the electricity created by the generator. An occasional spark struck them, making the electric circuits embedded in their exposed flesh glow brighter. Five with staves, five with coils on their wrists. Caenryx prepared his blade, Fiachyth pulled her Shuriken pistol up and loosed a volley of shots at the Electro Priest closest to Caenryx. A few of the shots landed, but electricity burned across his skin and cauterized the wound almost immediately.
The priest grinned and swung his staff out at her, "The blessed motive force has chosen me! We feel no pain!" The staff struck against her helmet, and a follow up blow came at her. Power trailed in the air from the polearm, which was cut in half in the exact middle by Caenryx, a flourish of Caenryx's blade removed the priest's head from his body. Sending it slumping to the ground with a pool of viscous, aged, burning blood. Caenryx pulled her to her feet. "You alright?"
"Yeah… Thanks, how'd you cut through their staff? They look to be the same technology as their master's and we failed to cut through that weapon before." Caenryx tapped the staff with his blade. "The middle wasn't sparking so I figured it wasn't covered by the protective energy field. Seems I was right." A bolt of crackling lightning slammed into Caenryx, sending him into the wall. One of the humans with coil gauntlets sent energy from the generator straight into the Drukhari, with their body as a conduit.
Their movements were a bit twitchy, like a normal person's response to being electrocuted but dulled significantly. "Be purified by the motive force, vile Xenos!" Fiachyth's Shuriken pistol sent a second priest to the ground. This one died easier, the shots landed on his head, no amount of energy would help prevent that death. She drew her sword and lunged at the priest, sending constant energy into Caenryx. A staff slammed into her back, stopping her assault. She quickly fired a few shots at the initial human, stopping the torrent of lightning. Then, she turned to face the one who struck her. "You monsters will die for what you did to my planet!" She charged forward into the fray, bellowing a warcry that could shake the stars.
A vox emitter crackled to life from within the tomb, Quill opened the hailing frequency. "This is Magos Dominus Quill, who hails me?"
"Magos, this is Anaxagoras Theophilos Kai-Sothus. You are behind schedule." Quill was shocked, "Impossible! We have made exceptional time even with a Tomb Stalker attacking us! What could have possibly changed?" Elsewhere in the chamber, the Dark Angels were preparing more explosives. Only two spots left now, those were much further inside. "The Skitarii lines are under attack by Canoptek constructs that have defied our efforts to contain the Necron threat. Increase priority for objective C to top level. Destroy the Canoptek Manufactorums, I authorize the usage of any means required. Do not fail us, a Cryptek level threat or higher has awoken and is likely aware of your presence." Quill cursed under his breath, "By the almighty Three in One…" He cleared his throat, "Lord Anaxagoras. We will ensure all objectives are completed, I have full faith in Marshall Epsilon's to maintain defenses. Once he receives the support of the Priesthood."
"I will dispatch cohorts as soon as we are able, we are in the final stages of deploying the holy generators to begin the great ritual of the Motive Force. This Cryptek must die before your exfiltration from the tomb." The vox buzzed with static, then died once more. "Wonderful, a new target. This one capable of fighting back.
"A Cryptek should be easy to kill, Magos." Said Lazaron.
"That is true. On their own and isolated, a Cryptek is very easy to kill for the firepower we possess… They are never isolated or on their own. We should orchestrate events to remedy that." Araleal paused, "... How, Magos?" A holographic display emitted from an augmetic on Quill's back. "If we were to divert from our plotted course minorly, we could find this cryptek's position and before revealing our own destroy their stasis pods. How many charges do we have left?"
"Four, Magos. Two extras to use on the foul Xenos," Araleal hefted the munitions crate back onto his shoulder, "where to then?" Quill thought for a moment, then pointed down a different pathway than their expected route, "Based on what we know, which is admittedly limited, this way should bring us to the Cryptek's section of the tomb. We will need to work our way back around here to place the last mandatory explosives in the proper positions." Quill set off, but this posed a problem.
His communion with the holy Machine Spirit had told him the opportunity for another forbidden relic would cross his path soon. That he should do anything to procure it, he had calculated exactly how to do that without being detected, even by Space Marines. However with this new fourth objective that was going to be significantly more complicated. What he sought to do would be considered questionable by the entire cohort, but to five Space Marines? It would be considered absolute heresy. Marines of the first legion would be the last to turn a blind eye to him procuring relics from a Necron tomb.
"Magos?" Azracai was trying to get his attention for a few attempts now, "Magos are you alright? You stopped talking, we were asking what we should look out for in this new section of the tomb." Quill shook his head, a habit leftover from his unenlightened days. "Apologies, Sergeant. I get caught up in my own mind sometimes, we should prepare to find more Necrons properly. Canoptek constructs will be busy awakening as many stasis chambers as they can find, and be wary of anything that moves. We are the only humans down here, anything that moves is an enemy."
The attacking Wraith laid dead at Epsilon's feet, sparks flew from its faceplate. Burns marred its armor plates, while its inner circuitry was left a mass of bubbling slag by a barrage of plasma fire. The Necrodermis may have been able to handle ample plasma and the Wraith itself may have been all but immune to arc weapons, but it fell all the same to enough heat such as that from a highly modified Cyberhound's Meltagun. As all machines both holy and abominant did.
"Lord Anaxagoras, this is High Marshall Epsilon requesting directives. We cannot hold here and do nothing while the enemy sends swift moving constructs at us." The Explorator Majoris responded with a terse tone via noospheric broadcast, "Mind yourself unit β, to direct this battle is not your place. Representatives of the Legio Cybernetica have assured me that the battle will soon turn in our favor." Epsilon had noted the Kastelan Robots positioned in preparation to charge the frontline, yet that hadn't done so.
"Which representatives, Lord Anaxagoras?"
"Pythagoras Xanryl"
Epsilon briefly suppressed his own Noospheric emissions, "By the Great Three in One…" He was about to respond properly but the Explorator Majoris cut him off, "You will stand by, Command will return to a ranking Tech Priest shortly. Maintain defensive line until then. Skitarii." The Noosphere maintained its swell of sanctified noise, but The Lord Majoris had ceased transmission. Epsilon couldn't believe what he heard, they had maintained an excellent defense but holding a single defensive line for too long was suicidal. A proper frontline had to ebb and flow with the tides of war. Epsilon knew this in his very soul. He was absolutely sure that this was a fundamental truth. But he didn't know how or from where he knew that.
He never once doubted the power of the Cult Mechanicum, but he was seeing that not every member of the priesthood was as good at conducting war as they were at dismantling the secrets of the blessed machine. He motioned for Quill's Cyberhound to follow him, he was going to do as much as he could to prepare the Skitarii for what was soon to be a disastrous misjudgement of the battle, he would- A massive blast of energy erupted from the cut off exits. The Necrons had brute forced their way through two more of them, the attacking power of the Xenos had just tripled.
The Skitarii at the frontline, Serbyrus, Sydonian, Vanguard, and Pteraxii corps soldiers would be crushed in a matter of moments. Epsilon tried to send emergency commands and protocols to the soldiers but his communications were interrupted. Something foul was interfering with the Noosphere, and without the priesthood present to conduct the rituals of purging their combat efficiency would drop. They'd have to use local datanet commands to communicate effectively in the heat of battle, and he was too far to make it in time before the oncoming Necron warforms crushed the defensive wall. Epsilon had no choice, he placed a hand on the cyberhound's back.
"As you once saved me in eons past, I ask you now, holy machine spirit. Help me save the legion today." Nothing happened, Epsilon's grip tightened. "I beg of the Omnissiah, grant me your aide!" After a beat of silence, Maglocks whirred. Exactly as Epsilon had hoped. In one fluid motion he leapt onto the back of the cyberhound. The bonding of a cyberhound to a rider was a sacred rite, only the worthy would be selected by the war machines to become members of the serbyrus corps.
Epsilon felt the bond form, the maglocks engaged and the cyberhound charged forward. Rider and Machine as one. Epsilon put his control stave onto his belt and pulled a relic sword from its scabbard. Blinding blue energy cast off the blade as he held it forward. Rallying more Skitarii to join him in the fray. He rode forward towards the Skitarii at full speed, watching as they fell to the oncoming Necron warforms. Skorpekh Destroyers and Necron Immortals began to appear with the base warriors, crushing any resistance before them. He prepared a new protocol to distribute to the Skitarii, all he could do was hope he could make it in time.