The Infinite and the Divine (Warhammer 40,000)

by Robert Rath

He left the Scythes with an order to return, or if too heavily damaged, expend all ammunition then ram a high-priority target. Preferably one of the cursed carnosaurs.

But just because one was dead did not mean he could not be haunted,

‘The Ammunos Dynasty is naught but inert metal now – you can’t steal from the dead, that’s called archaeology.

The selection process took two standard years of bickering, politicking, and the occasional threat of violence. It was, in other words, a standard necron court case.

One knows that one was a child, that one was born and lived years only through second-hand stories. Knows that there are friends, once close companions in youth, who are nothing but fleeting ghosts in memory. Sensations disconnected from context. Things retained, but with no memory of learning them – one knows the colour blue, but cannot recall the first time one knew its name.

‘I have drawn up new formulations for a Mandragora assault,’ said Trazyn’s tactical-cryptek, Tekk-Nev. ‘It is well fortified, as your… reconnaissance discovered.’ ‘An artful euphemism for repeated atomisation, Tekk-Nev,’ Trazyn smiled. ‘You shall go far.’

Horus’ body was likely being venerated somewhere in the Eye of Terror, after all, and the Emperor was just sitting there on Terra. Seemed a waste, such a historic figure left to rot like that. Trazyn could do a far better job at preservation and restoration. The humans probably wouldn’t agree.

Orikan dropped, hands clawing, fingers starting to phase, eaten by glow-worms of portal light. His charred skull crunched as he spoke. ‘I… don’t… have… the Mysterios.’ ‘You can keep it,’ said Trazyn, stepping back into the hyperspace oubliette.

‘You pronounce orkish like it tastes bad.’

‘Trazyn. Our ships are without atmosphere, unpressurised,’ Orikan said. ‘Do orks… breathe?’ A pause. ‘They have lungs.’ Prepare to repel boarders, Orikan signalled. In case.

But even so, there were few things in the galaxy more dangerous than an ork having fun.

The blast had torn away both his legs and one arm. Charred his skull and torso until he was nothing but a reactor and logic processor in a fused hunk of metal. Trazyn did not concern himself with these details – because he had a plan.

‘A pity we did not have a Doom Scythe,’ his servant said, slapping away one of the predators as it gnawed tentatively at his hand. ‘We might not have lost so many men.’ ‘Of course we had a Doom Scythe,’ Trazyn snorted. ‘But how would I have displayed it? Do you want to fix that kind of damage?’

‘If the enemy surrounds you, there are only two tactical options. The first is to break out of the encirclement and retreat, which – if successful – will preserve your army but ensure the chroniclers remember you as a defeated fool. The second is to fight to the death, in which case, you will destroy your army but the histories will laud you as a slain hero. Given these two options, I consider encirclement generally inadvisable.’

Dear friends, she thought, mentally greeting the rest of her party guests. Meet your ancient and feared foe, the necrons. Do try not to laugh.

‘If you believe either of us would consider Quellkah a threat,’ cut in Orikan, ‘you are sorely underestimating our abilities.’ ‘Why, Orikan,’ Trazyn said. ‘I believe that’s the kindest thing you’ve ever said to me.’

‘Let me put it this way. I was here when this whole island was forest. When waves lapped on what is now Embassy Row. A time before pollutants hazed the air and the monsoon rains came naturally, not via cloud-seeding.’ He paused. ‘So when you ask whether I intend to destroy this world, my question to you is: do you truly need the help?’

‘Mine. The praetorians. Most decisions of the council have been reversed, but I fought to allow you to continue your work unmolested by other dynasties.’ She gave each of them a look laden with gravity. ‘You two may be absurd, venal little children, but the work you do is crucial to our future and I truly believe it cannot be accomplished by anyone else.’ ‘Thank you,’ said Trazyn. ‘We think you’re an absurd, venial child too.’

Orikan stole a glance away from the battle-management panels that hung before him in the air. ‘I hope you brought an army.’ ‘You think so little of me, dear colleague,’ said Trazyn, picking out a labyrinth. ‘I brought five.’

‘Time is a weapon like any other. If all else fails, I can simply wait for my enemies to rot.’ – Orikan the Diviner