"In time forgotten, before the death of my Master's master. Before the schism that ripped Mars in half, before the fall of the Machine God's flesh form to the warmaster, before the beginnings of decay crept into our collective peripheral vision there were those of an empire greater than any living soul can fathom. The evidence surrounds us, but we choose to turn a blind eye. So vast was the knowledge of all that came before us yet we remain blinded by our willing ignorance."
- From, De rebus machinis et xenaritis. Written by Archmagos Battista Albrecht Ghetaldi, 348.M36
01010000 01100001 01110010 01110100 00100000 00110111
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
Rhythmic stomping preceded the steel march of the excavation team. Sifting through the rubble with las-cutters, mining drills, and servo-arms was second nature to the Explorators. With the Necrons broken and scattered within the wreckage of a tomb, the work could officially begin. Each team of miners and excavators had a Vanguard escort with a direct line to the surface and there were several of such teams burrowing into the ancient stone.
The fleet would soon have the STC Fragment in their possession, and could leave this wretched planet. Throughout the cohort, the air was filled with both static and excitement. A great victory had been had here today, and the entirety of the fleet knew who they could thank. Within the ranks of the different cohorts and teams from Skitarii to the Priesthood rumors spread of the new High Marshal's defiance of standard programming to rush headlong into combat. Though the Skitarii mainly spoke with reverence towards the idea of a higher up daring to risk life and limb to save them, the Priesthood was less inclined to such notions.
Many priests, adepts, and acolytes all spoke with concern over what this would cause in their ranks. Sedition may only be the beginning, should Skitarii begin looking for ways to defy protocol, as ineffective as such efforts may be, it would only cause problems in future engagements. The Mechanicus thrived in well structured situations, on the occasion less orthodox methods saw success; it was standard for Tech Priests to write such victories off as flukes or divine intervention from the Omnissiah. As only they could create, and that included creating battle strategies.
Everything was put through the filter of previously identified and well studied battles, it was the foundation of their entire military structure. For every battle had some past analogue that could be analyzed to great success. But how did you predict an enemy that simply overpowered and overwhelmed any theoretical battle strategy? High Marshal Epsilon had answered that, and it had more dogmatic rigid minded members of the Cult grumbling to themselves. Though to the open minded of the priesthood and vast majority of the Skitarii it was the morale boost they needed.
As a mining group passed into a room currently housing servitors harvesting blackstone, one of their Vanguard escorts put the barrel of their rad-carbine to the back of a sparking, broken down Necron's head and unloaded into it. They'd been conducting similar exterminations the entire day. "Battle report analysis indicates turning point originated at partially destroyed Dunecrawler unit. Written off by present priesthood, Datasmith Xanryl."
Another Vanguard shook their head, "That one will be our doom. Omnissiah knows the only ones that truly know how to battle with us are the Dominus, Secutors, and Marshals." A sudden wave of machine code hit the twos' minds, bringing them back into lockstep formation. They were used to their minds being throttled by sudden commands, but they had figured down here a little chatter was fine. Their Alpha unit seemingly disagreed, and she turned back to address them.
"If the two of you are so intent on speaking ill of senior priests, I will send you to the Servitor Cradles myself so as to not be associated with you." Internally, the Skitarii cared very little for the opinions of the Legio Cybernetica. They were under the command of the Secutors, who were in turn under the authority of Magos Tahr'kull. He and his Subdominus priests were the type who were willing to descend to a planet and fight alongside them.
If the opportunity arose, any civilian or guardsman could ask a Skitarii, and they'd get unfathomable accounts of flagrant friendly fire. All due to the detached mind of a priest from a different discipline. The Alpha unit turned back to her soldiers, "Do not forget who it was that activated and directed that Dunecrawler when the High Marshal was disabled anyways. I will have no disparaging talk in my squad." The squad Alpha punctuated her point by ramming the prongs of the goad into the back of another highly damaged Necron. Power coursed through the alien, making it spasm before ultimately falling limp.
Skitarii were a varied type, some of them were little better than servitors with combat augmetics, some were normal people with the potential to be programmed like automata, and most were somewhere in the middle. With no priests overseeing recovery efforts yet, these Skitarii enjoyed a high amount of autonomy for now. Limited protocols sent by their sergeants kept things orderly and efficient but otherwise they were quick to cut up with each other where possible. A pastime they usually only enjoyed when traveling between planets.
The Alpha stopped suddenly, and the others stopped in lockstep with her. Other than the excavators, who all stopped in a more human manner. Full of inefficient delays and confusion. Her vox opened, and each of them knew from the binharic speech that came through this was the High Marshal.
"Vanguard Team Gamma, status report requested."
"Skitarii Alpha Gamma-1, Vetra, reporting from previously assigned tomb coordinates. Present servitors making time above expected efficiency. Digsite clear of Necron presence, reports will come as we have them."
"Ensure all guard positions are filled, personnel have reported Necron subtype presence convening in nearby tomb sectors. Undamaged areas unlikely to contain priority target, avoid Canopteks. Do not let them see you or you will be collapsed upon."
"As you order, High Marshal." The vox clicked off, and in a silent wave of Noospheric code, the Vanguard all spread out to cover the perimeter of the digsite. Vetra was a veteran of the Explorator fleet, she had been with them since their last trip to blessed Mars. From there she'd been dispatched from her previous assignment and placed in charge of a squad of her own under the overarching command of Magos Tahr'kull. By her understanding, he was only one step removed from Lord Anaxagoras himself. Billowing machine language spilled from Vetra to her soldiers, "Keep this efficiency high! If you see the servitors fall below accepted parameters apply corrective motivational techniques. Executions are expected to stay at a minimum, uploading sentry protocols. Any Xenos intrusions are to be met with immediate termination." The Skitarii saluted and began their vigil.
Unknown to the squad or their workers, far away in a forgotten corner of the tomb abandoned by even the Necrons themselves something was stirring. Canoptek corpses littered the room bathed in a dull red light. Skeletons and decrepit mummified remains filled the corners. Stasis chambers occupied this section much like the others, but these were different. Damaged and destroyed by a flaw planned before the Great Sleep. A lone Necron hunched over the body of a Skitarii that had gotten separated from their squad. Their augmetics were torn apart and littered about, their remaining flesh and bits of their bloodied robes adorned the body of the knife handed, deranged alien. The Flayed One twitched, taking in its surroundings.
Something had freed them, a roaring explosion above where their cousins slept. The force of it had knocked their faulty stasis chambers free and let them out. These things were invading their home, and somewhere in the depths of their madness the Flayed Ones understood their charge to serve. They would butcher the intruders, take their flesh. Become whole once more.
Epsilon sat on the repair table, flexing his limbs and testing the neurological connection between his mind and the steel construct. He sat staring at the augmetic for a long while, pondering his present situation. With his promotion, he was allowed access to functions of his mind he'd lost for years. Now he had to come to terms with some parts of the past he'd never even known about. It was spotty, and certain parts of the past were still completely blank, but he remembered something. A crime he'd committed or a betrayal he'd conducted, something of that sort that saw him sent to the Skitarii legions.
He stared at his relic pistol, what he didn't understand was how a lesser conscripted Skitarius had attained his rank. Over the countless vat grown Skitarii born loyal to the Cult Mechanicum. He suspected Quill was somehow to blame for that, he'd once promised the Skitarius that he would make sure both of them survived after that battle. From the Serbyrus corps, Quill continued to rise in the ranks. Epsilon stayed where he was, doomed to die in some suicidal battle. But that death never came, every time he came back from a fight battered and partially destroyed his repairs were slightly higher quality than they were supposed to be.
Each replacement was a slight improvement from what came before, a luxury only given to born soldiers of the cult. Not criminals damned to service until their demise. Behind the scenes, Magos Tahr'kull had made good on his promise. Even though by then Epsilon was expendable to him, to all in the priesthood. The Magos had hand waved such ideas of expendability, something about his old master's teachings said that no creation of the Omnissiah was expendable. Epsilon had taken a liking to that thought, and felt it was only right for him to save the countless men and women in situations like his. Whether they were born into the legions or pressed into them, they were puppets to dance on the strings of the priesthood.
Epsilon's recollection was interrupted by the now repaired Cyberhound approaching, and waiting on commands. He'd expected the thing to return to Quill's side but here it was, waiting. He felt a communion with the machine spirit within, they had bonded and Quill hadn't given any orders to return with him. For the time, this holy machine was in his employ.
He got up and left the repair bay, overlooking the streams of data traveling across the cohort. Each one was a lingering connection informing him of where each excavation team was underground. Though something was off. One of the threads of data was missing, and another's beads of information were bizarrely scattered. A direct breach of standard transmission protocols that no Skitarius would think of making. This type of mistake was expected of the Astra Militarum, or at times more prideful members of the Legiones Astartes, but the Skitarii? No, all they did was follow protocols for matters such as this. Something was off in the tomb's wreckage. An invisible string of data emitted from Epsilon's servo skull to the five Skitarii elites, and the ruststalker Xor to converge on his location. They would need to investigate this themselves. Diverting other Skitarii to the missing teams' last known locations would present a potential dip in efficiency.
The soldiers quickly stood in formation before him, and he addressed them with his machine voice, "Abnormalities present in datastream from teams Beta and Gamma. Mission parameters uploading now, our task is to find the missing team and if possible extract survivors. Prepare to receive search and destroy routines, and stay close." The cybernetic soldiers saluted, and fell into a march behind him and the cyberhound. Though they'd fended off the Necrons, their mission wasn't over yet. Until Magos Tahr'kull summoned them back to Praeco Voltaic, they had more to do.
The tomb's entrance loomed overhead, though little of it was recognizable. Necron bodies deemed too far gone littered the area, the stained burned silver of their Necrodermis contrasted with the red robes stained crimson by the blood and oil left behind by the Skitarii bodies around them. There was a clear path down, tunneling had gone quickly. Allowing the cohort to break into the tomb's halls through the wreckage, which allowed reclamation teams to harvest the blackstone while excavation teams searched for the Archeotech.
With further access to the tomb, time to analyze historical records, and a break from the battle to commune with the planet's remaining machine spirits the cohort learned what it was they hunted for. A potent device known as the Hexonic Cipher, archeotech designed to break through coded locks and computerized methods of restricting access. A potent tool that would serve an explorator fleet greatly. Ancient worlds with technology locked away behind forgotten access codes could be open to them, their holy machinery ripe for rediscovery. Though none of that mattered if the last gasp of Necron resistance stopped the Skitarii from completing the excavation. So, the small team descended into the dark tunnels, illuminated by the glow of their blue and green lenses.
Grinding stone and squealing metal echoed in the chambers of the tomb, drilling servitors continued on while their excavator overseers put up support beams while they searched. They had an approximate estimate of the archeotech's location, or several estimates. Now they simply had to cross potential locations off the list until they had it, then they could evacuate the planet and request an approval for exterminatus. That was the only way to fully ensure the tomb was never rebuilt, giving them nothing left to build on or with. The Skitarii's lenses protected their eyes from the belching exhaust of the drills, while the smog would kill menials. Vetra reviewed their projected efficiency and noted a strange dip in the overall estimates. One of the teams had dropped off entirely, no communications to or from.
Concerning, that usually meant a complete eradication of the squad. The High Marshal had mentioned a Necron form being sighted in the lower levels of the tomb, but to wipe out an entire squad without any distress signals? That didn't compute properly with her. Her audio receptors picked up on a vague slight anomaly in the area. Immediately she sent stop commands, making the servitors obediently rev down their drills. Scratching, of some kind. Coming closer, from several directions. It sounded like they were about to breach into another cavern. A cavern with something in it. A claw burst from the stone, impaling one of the Drill servitors in the skull, sending them slumping to the ground. Vetra stepped back, where another claw broke out of the opposite side. Barely missing her own helmet, she lashed out with her Taser Goad and struck at the claw. But it didn't stop the scratching, she sent retreat protocols but the second servitor was too slow. It was torn apart by the foul smelling things ripping through the thinned wall.
Vetra broke for the tunnel entrance, emergency protocols streamed from her to her vanguard. They were prepared to hold off attackers in an instant. Glowing eyes pierced the now dark cavern before them. Many eyes, each red with searing hatred. Twitching shambling necrons with elongated claws stumbled forward, wearing skin and scraps of robes they'd stolen. The first few were destroyed by a hail of radium rounds, but the scraping of metal on stone came from underneath, above, and around them. Vetra realized immediately their position was fully compromised, they had no chance of establishing a defensive hold here.
She wasted no time sending relocation orders, but two vanguard were pounced on by the maddened aliens breaking out of the ground. They were eviscerated in mere seconds, the remaining eight did everything they could to hold them off while they retreated back the way they came. Their servitors were left dumbly swinging their drill hands at the Necrons, it did nothing to save them from the assault. The lobotomized servants were left to die, shredded by flesh hungry monsters. Their skin was harvested, blood ran down the chassis of the flayed ones as they draped the bloated half dead skin across their frames.
The gruesome display was more than any menial would handle, but the Skitarii felt nothing but hatred and disgust. They fired another fusillade into the Necrons, cutting them down as easily as they cut down their human victims.
"Alpha Unit Gamma-1 codename Vetra requesting immediate emergency response. Squad under heavy duress by Flayer-type Necrons. All nearby Skitarii squads respond immediately!" Vetra sent the noospheric distress call, but there was no acknowledgement. No one returned their call, and when she opened short range vox an ear splitting static shriek responded. Not binharic, just normal interference. They'd gotten too deep, their signals couldn't reach the cohort above and they were too far down to receive help from the remaining teams. The closest group should have been Beta team.
She had no choice but to return her eyes forward and coordinate a fighting retreat until they could get a signal to someone who could hear. If the cohort knew, they could crush these monstrous things with little effort. A team of eight Skitarii would struggle on their own. Vetra's Taser Goad sparked to life again, overflowing with the Motive Force. Meanwhile the Flayed Ones approached further, growing ever closer to the interlopers that freed them from their isolation.
The standard ebb and flow of battle dictated that this back and forth with the Necrons was normal. That didn't stop Epsilon from being annoyed that the Necrons kept cropping back up to serve as a pain in the Cohort's collective side. As he and his squad examined Beta squad's last location, he realized numerous holes had been made to an unexplored lower section of the tomb. This lower section had a dim red light instead of the usual Necron green, with a haze hanging over every inch within. The majority of Necron tombs, this one included, were clean, coated in yellow-green light and staffed by Canopteks. The section that sat beneath them was, for lack of any more accurate terms, dead.
The stench of death hung heavy in the air, skeletons littered the corners uncleaned by robotic servants. The signs of battle marred this dead section of tomb, fresh signs of battle. Burn marks and spent radium ammunition were littered everywhere, as were some of the bodies of the missing squad. They were torn apart by blades, though not the usual hyperphase and energy blades these creatures used. Epsilon knelt down, and examined one of the bodies, this one had a destroyed plasma rifle laying nearby. Epsilon made a note mentally this was both the loudest weapon, and the oldest body.
What remained of their skin was ripped apart by a butcher's blade, sliced from the bone while the bloody damaged augmetics were thrown aside. Epsilon's analysis of the blood patterns suggested this one had been dragged several meters away from their initial point of death. Nearby, Xor reported the death of one using an Arc Rifle, another loud weapon. Epsilon had dealt with these skin stealers before, they were little more than feral animals. They went for the loudest or most obvious weapon first. Skitarii that had yet to deal with these things would likely send fusillades of energy fire down a hallway without realizing that would only attract more of them.
"Ruststalker unit, continue your search but send a wide alert signal if you spot any living Flayed ones. Follow them utilizing stealth protocols. They will lead us to what remains of Gamma or Beta team." Xor chittered an acknowledgement, and stalked off into the darkness. The remaining Skitarii dragged more bodies into this chamber. They'd found almost the entirety of the team, which made the likelihood of survival a diminishing prospect. Still, there was a greater chance that Gamma team was alive. So they had to ensure they exhausted all opportunities for evacuation before they left the tomb to call in greater reinforcements.
"High Marshal," One of the black clad Skitarii said, "No reported disturbances with other teams. Aggression appears localized in present sector." Epsilon nodded, "We will continue to the last known location of Gamma once we find the final bodies of Beta Squad. Omnissiah guide their souls." A silent noospheric prayer filled the chamber, a blessing for the fallen so that they may find their way back to Mars from this accursed place.
After some time, another Skitarii hoisted their heavy meltagun and rejoined the others. That left two bodies unaccounted for. "High Marshal, requesting next directives."
"We'll set off, likelihood we encounter final corpses in the process approaches certainty. Follow." The small team set off for a deeper section of this rancid tomb. Epsilon hoped, though didn't have much faith, that they'd find some survivors and prevent a complete disruption of their efforts. He did want to save Skitarii lives, but he also wanted to leave this planet as fast as the Omnissiah allowed, he was sick of this place. And he had alot of thinking to do on his current situation, but that would have to wait. The Omnissiah would grant him rest in time, now was the time to march onward as the blessed machine would.
Vetra lacked the experience in the deep tombs that Epsilon had, she lacked the knowledge of their animalistic nature, and she further lacked any semblance of a plan as to how they should get out of this situation. Their ammo reserves were doing alright for now, but at the rate they consumed it they'd run dry before they made it to the surface. Searing shots of plasma reduced several Flayed Ones to slag, but the skitarius with the plasma rifle was lunged at by three Flayed ones at once. The sickening sounds of rent flesh and pained screams mixed in a terrible combination. Binharic warped voices rang with their death throes, sounding more like suffering monsters than human soldiers. The plasma rifle crashed to the ground, landing on its energy coil sending a blast of power that destroyed several flayed ones and two more Skitarii. Vetra fell back further when a Flayed One jumped forwards, landing on the prongs of her Taser Goad.
The aliens' bodies were piling high, but they wouldn't stop. The supply of robotic assailants seemed endless, and eventually their resistance broke. The death of another screaming cult soldier sent the last few breaking for their escape route. A full rout, allowing the Flayed Ones time unimpeded to chase after. It took Vetra a moment to reestablish order. And she had to think about their options. The scraping was closing in, but she had an idea.
"All units, prepare to fire on my signal!"
"Request for targeting parameters, Alpha Unit" Vetra pointed up at the support beams along their escape.
"Destroy the supports, collapse the tunnel. That will slow them down." The Vanguard aimed, each one preparing to take out a different support. Vetra put her Goad up, and with a single machine language command the Vanguard all unloaded their weapons at the same time. The beams were shredded, knocked aside by concussive force, or riddled with holes that weakened their integrity. The tomb rumbled, and the stone collapsed down under its own weight. Several Flayed Ones were caught in the collapse, so determined to kill the intruders and take their flesh that they were blind to the danger overhead. The sounds of digging began immediately, Vetra knew they didn't have unlimited time.
Once more, she tried desperately to send a signal to the surface or the other teams. This time, however, her signal was interrupted. Epsilon's datastream cut her signal short, confused, she opened vox channels again.
"Unit Gamma-1, alternative Skitarii teams deemed unable to divert from their course." Vetra was appalled but she dared not let that emotion slip, "Request for clarification, High Marshal. Has Gamma team been deemed acceptable loss?"
"Negative, personal elites are en route to Gamma team's location. Hold fast, do not change location. Prepare for ruststalker support in the interim." The vox clicked off, Ruststalkers? The was a relief, but she knew of no Sicarian squads down here in full. Or any Sicarians in the High Marshal's cohort. It didn't matter, if they were receiving support, then it would be accepted.
The Flayed ones began to break through the stone, but as the first claws were breaking through the stone a green humming transonic blade cleaved through them from the shadows. Standing there on stilt-limbs was a black robed Ruststalker bearing the emblems of Stygies VIII, Vetra was confused. One Ruststalker? She'd heard of KM.438-XOR but what could one ruststalker accomplish? She was answered nearly immediately, when a Flayed One crushed their way through the stone, climbing out to the other side and almost immediately was turned to sparking scrap by a flurry of three forward facing energy blades. The cuts were immediate, almost effortless in their speed and damage. Xor was a blinding flurry of death, so much so the Flayed Ones were forced to create a wider opening just to have a chance of overwhelming him, that would be difficult with the withering fire of Skitarii backup.
All three of the Ruststalker's transonic blades were working in tandem, a beautiful dance of humming energy and torn Necrodermis. Vetra was in awe at how precise each cut was, anything that wasn't eviscerated by a blade was impaled on an infestus mechadendrite and forced up into the path of the next cut, cleanly destroying the Necron while leaving the mechadendrite unharmed by margins of a hair's breadth. At this rate, Vetra figured they may just survive to see the surface.
That moment of hope was short lived, the Necrons began to break through faster than Xor could cut them down, and the Ruststalker had to use more careful methods to avoid their razor sharp claws. One Necron made it through and killed another Vanguard in a spray of blood and viscera, then another fell beside him. The retreat had to begin again, but now they could at least fend for themselves better with Xor's assistance. They were back in the normal part of the tomb now, green lights offered a bizarre sense of familiarity despite how profane they were. Anything was better than the dim tunnels or hazy abandoned tomb section littered with bones.
Epsilon heard the sounds of battle approach, they were close. Gamma team's retreat had brought them right where the Marshal wanted them. Noospheric code was sent to the survivors, and they all broke into a sprint for the room Epsilon and his soldiers laid in wait within. The Flayed Ones, eager to "feel" the slick red vitae of these primitives coat their metallic forms, flooded forward. There, two Skitarii in Stygies robes broke from their hiding places and unleashed torrents of incendiary weapons at the mob of attackers. A melta reduced them to scorched metal remains in moments, while a heavy flamer skitarius burned the circuitry from them before they could retreat. The combined efforts of two superheated weapons left heat distortions in the air and a massive pile of Necron remains.
The High Marshal stepped out from a neighboring room, and raised his control stave forward. Immediately all Skitarii present returned to formation and laid down fire on new priority targets. While Vetra could direct basic protocols, Epsilon's repository of battle data was significantly greater. Soon desperate but meaningless shots into the horde became precise pinpoint galvanic fire into the legs of the Flayed Ones. Making them stumble and pile up on each other, radium fire chewed through the remaining frontline. While the heavy weapons continued to hold the crazed Necrons back.
The skin adorned aliens' claws screeched across the blackstone in their desperate attempts to get away or closer to their targets, their attack already lacked any strategy and now their feral nature demanded they do one of the two. The Mechanicus there didn't care, they only wanted the wave of enemies to stop just long enough for them to break for the surface and call in and report the danger to the rest of the cohort. In time, the Flayed Ones retreated back into the miasmic haze of stale rank air. Back into the shadows, dragging the dead with them to carve apart into horrid adornments. They'd won the battle, but the war would continue. With the Flayers and possibly destroyers emerging from the deepest recesses of this world, the hunt for the archeotech would take more soldiers present than they thought.
Epsilon began sending the proper communications and data to the surface. His augmetics were stronger, better suited to pierce through the stone layer above. Updates on the present situation and requests for reinforcements reached the priesthood above, and soon they began preparing to send backup. Though now that they had a chance to recover, Vetra looked around. Her team were killed down to two vanguard, soldiers she'd known for years cut down before her. It was almost enough to overflow her emotion vaults. Epsilon put a metal hand on her shoulder. "Performance rating, above expectations. Alpha Unit will receive proper accolades and reinforcements to diminished squad." Vetra saluted, but internally couldn't stop but mourn in her own cybernetic manner. For that one brief moment, she envied the more drone-like Skitarii. They would feel nothing at a tragedy like this.
Aboveground, Quill was making preparations to withdraw his forces from the planet. As the ranking Magos Dominus, he was expected to provide a majority of the Cohort's military presence. Though the other high ranking magi had their own legions, Quill's were the strongest. The Dark Angels had informed him they were needed elsewhere, and were preparing a shuttle to leave. Quill had offered to escort them to The Rock, but to do so he had to pull his forces out of the battle. The Explorator Majoris had approved the request but now the priesthood was receiving data from Epsilon that there were Flayed Ones present in the tomb's lower sections. Exactly where they needed to dig.
Quill sent a string of binharic curses at their terrible luck. The chance to conduct his own business with the stone relic was too good to pass up, under the excuse of escorting the Dark Angels he could divert his course afterwards. Then he could start tracking down those wretched Eldar, but it all had to wait until the others sent their own legions down to the planet. Quill couldn't help but release some amount of anger from his emotion vaults, they never stuck their own necks out completely. They waited for him and his soldiers to do most of the heavy lifting. There were still three large ships worth of Skitarii to reinforce their position.
"Magos Tahr'kull," Azracai said as he and the other marines approached, "our preparations to depart are complete. Can we depend on your escort?"
"Of course sergeant." Quill said quickly. "Though, we will have to wait until my forces are withdrawn completely. The process is underway just… Delayed. Nothing to worry about." The Astartes looked between each other, then to the sound of approaching metal footsteps. Epsilon and his elites were all but dragging the three remaining Vanguard from the tomb back to the lines. Exhaustion didn't take to the Skitarii for extremely long spans of time, but all of them were starting to feel it now. Quill looked up, and saw other magi's forces moving in to relieve his own.
"Extraction process can begin in full, magos."
"Indeed, thank you Epsilon… And who is the Alpha unit?" Vetra stood at attention, all signs of exhaustion cast off in an instant. "Alpha Unit designatio-" Quill put up a hand, and shut his grayed biological eye, pinching the bridge of what was left of his nose with his other augmetic hand. "Ave Deus Mechanicus, no soldier. What is your name? A shorthand, if you have it."
Vetra stopped for a moment, "Unit shorthand, Vetra. Alpha of Gamma team." Quill turned to board a transvector, "Excellent! Vetra, accompany Epsilon and I for a debriefing of whatever disaster occurred down below. I'm morbidly curious to see what horrible surprise the Necron scum had for the excavators."
"Skitarii forces require rest from battle. Time estimate of combat is approaching three terran cycles."
"Three days? That quickly? By the three in one, we have been here for a while." Vetra, Quill, Xor, Epsilon, and their Skitarii boarded the transvector that would take them to the primary launch pad for their shuttles. The Dark Angels saluted as they lifted off, and turned to make for their own craft.
"Based on what I know through Epsilon's datastream," Quill said, "I see wonderful things in your future, Gamma-1 Vetra. We have much to discuss about your next assignment. I'm always on the lookout for exceptional specimens from the legions to join Epsilon's personal cohort." Vetra was unsure, she was just aware of the rumors about Magos Tahr'kull as any other Skitarii in the fleet. But seeing all that the magos and his Marshal had accomplished over three mere days, what could she learn from them? What blessing had the Omnissiah granted to these mavericks?
"Alpha Unit returns appreciation for accolades, magos. Praise deemed unnecessary, priority directive is the will of the Omnissiah." Quill's lips split into a smile, "That, Vetra, was the right answer."
Deep in the titanium guts of Deception's Venom, New Mechanicum acolytes moved throughout the engine rooms. Monitoring systems, chanting a foul chorus of twisted Omnissiahn prayers, and secretly laying the groundwork for a trap. Their true master sat across the system, the time was growing close for their plans to be enacted. It was a simple matter, though the Alpha Legion were an ancient body, this warband knew little of the true workings of tech priests.
Their alterations would go unnoticed should the Legionnaires inspect them, though the Obsidian Whisper did leave earlier than expected. Machine code commands billowed in harsh chains of data to a nearby servitor, an Ogryn they'd captured at a random engagement had made the perfect target for mind wiping and reconstruction.
The lumbering servitor obediently hefted a massive platform covered in spare parts, and followed the heretek. Dark Mechanicum Skitarii patrolled these lower decks, the occasional disappearance of a cultist meant nothing to much of the warband. It was easy to presume that the cult ate their own in their dark rituals, and they never stopped to think of where their servitors came from.
The dead eyed machine slaves toiled, making adjustments to engines that were distinctly not proper maintenance. A cracked valve here, a dented pipe there. It was small at first, the ship's master would spot major issues but not small ones that could snowball out of control.
A door hissed open, causing the Dark Mechanicum priests to silently send immediate alterations to their servitors' commands. The false fixes stopped, and the servitors silently, sluggishly marched elsewhere to do other manual tasks of upkeep. Telemateus walked in, flanked by Scylia the sorceress. There was a silence that hung in the air, until Telemateus spoke in his usual faintly echoing tone.
"Should I find that any of you have had contact with the Obsidian Whisper and could explain their disappearance but chose not to I will ensure you will survive to regret that mistake." As he finished his sentence, a tall creature strode into the room with elegance that thinly veiled its depraved true nature. A creature of purple flesh and golden resplendent armor, stood tall behind the Alpha Legion sorcerer. They wielded two daemonic axes, and two clawlike limbs sprouted from their back. Their flowing white hair seemed permanently stuck in the wind, and they glanced among the room with a predator's gaze. A grin crossed their cruel lips, and they seemed ready to leap at the Mechanicum at any moment. The Mechanicum retreated back, though many of them restricted their ability to feel fear they knew the danger this beast presented. The daemon prince was pulled back by a psychic wave of power from the sorcerer, "They get the message. Monster." The daemon snarled out of annoyance, but did nothing else against Telemateus.
"You have until we set for our next destination to come forward, after that I will personally interrogate every single one of you. That much I can guarantee on your very lives. Return to your work, and try not to forget it is you that needs us. Otherwise, I will gladly warp-step you to the ships belonging to your loyalist brethren one planet over." Without waiting for them to acknowledge his threats, he turned and left. Scylia glared at the Mechanicum present, and turned to follow the other two out of the engine room.
