It was all coming to fruition, Nemekh thought to themself as their Cairn class battleship exited the Dolmen Gate nearby the moon Venom. Banityn the Hidden and his Guild of Shadows had done an exemplary job of reconnaissance and subterfuge on the enemy base of operations, and whilst even they could not of planned or even predicting the Daemonic incursion on Vector Alpha, nor the Tyranid invasion of Veil’s Reach, they were certainly threats that worked to their advantage, turning the Imperium’s attention away from the Necrons’ shadow operation happen right on their metaphorical doorstep.
To the ship’s flank materialised another Necron vessel, one belonging to that of the Reticent Host; a somewhat mysterious Dynasty who, until now had been tasked with steadily lending their forces to the Silent King’s cause on every planet en route to their true destination of Venom. These detours were necessary however, for their enemies had dismissed the Reticent Host as a threat completely, believing them to be little more than a support detachment and never knowing their true role to play in the Reclamation Wars.
“Luck had a lot to play in this strategy of yours.” Nemesor Phaen stated bluntly to his sibling. “Your original plan to consolidate our forces on Perelus and await the Reticent Host failed miserably, meanwhile the human vermin target our most valuable territory and, in turn, weakened our position on both Pythons III and IV. Were it not for the proposal of a ceasefire by the… what did Kharimekh call them? Oh yes, the Null Faulty first, even the very idea of this invasion would be laughable.”
“Then show us the way to victory, brother.” Nemekh replied in an uncharacteristically calm tone.
Whilst what Phaen had said was true to a point, Nemekh the Summoner was no fool. They knew full well that there was always a chance their initial plan would fail, but a good strategist always accounted for failure and formulate additional strategies. It was why the Guild of Shadows had been sent to Venom in the first place, everything else was merely misdirection, and whilst the Tyranid invasion of Veil’s Reach did pose a genuine threat to the Silent King’s goals, Nemekh made sure to send the dregs of their dynasty to deal with them, specifically those afflicted with the Destroyer curse and the Flayer virus.
With any luck they’ll wipe each other out, Nemekh thought to themself. The Phaeron didn’t care much for the Destroyers and cared even less for Szarazs, the mad king of old turned Skorpekh whose faulty command protocols afflicted a great number of the Khertet Dynasty on Ultrus Prime with the Destroyer curse, rewriting their core engrams indiscriminately and absorbing them into his cult. Were it not for the fact that the Khertet nobility were given the power to act of their own free will then perhaps even they would have been sentenced to an eternity as a mindless killing machine. The thought was not a pleasant one. At least Szarazs took out that bothersome Othar on Ultrus Prime, thought Nemekh trying to find a positive in the negative.
Phaen gripped his master-worked Hyperphase Glaive excitedly at the thought of showing up their sibling in the battle to come, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Nemekh was obviously and deliberately fuelling the Nemesor’s ego to spur his lust for battle.
“Can’t wait.” He said gleefully.
“Vessel detected materialising through unreal space, my Phaeron,” said one of the Apprenteks operating the ship’s detection systems, “positive ident codes for those belonging to allied abhumans.”
“Open communications.” Nemekh ordered.
A holographic image of a fully armoured astartes adorned with decorative daemon wings and lightning motifs appeared in the centre of the chamber; its digital form glowing with the fiery oranges and reds of the Khertet Dynasty’s signature wychfire. The figure stared coldly at the Summoner.
“Yes?” The figure asked irritably, as if the Phaeron contacting him was little more than an inconvenience on his part.
“I need to ensure that you understand the plan. As an emissary for the Silent King, I will not be allowing any of our noctilith reserves into your possession until you have followed our strategy to the minutest of details. We will not tolerate failure.”
The astartes growled with delight, and Nemekh could tell that beneath his twisted helmet that the metahuman was grinning, knowing the role they had to play in the Phaeron’s scheme.
“We are to go on ahead of your forces and disrupt the Imperial defences there, killing the Emperor’s dogs as we please. Meanwhile you send in your disturbing hollow people to take the brunt of the enemy fire whilst you attack multiple strategic locations around the enemy base. We know warfare, Necron.”
“Do you?” Nemekh asked, condescendingly. “I have been waging wars since before your race were even a thought abhuman, my noble Dynasty practically invented the art of warfare.”
“But we perfected it.” The figure rasped before abruptly ending the communication. The abhuman’s hubris irked the Phaeron to a degree, but it mattered not. Should their astartes allies perish to the Imperial counter attack they would have still served their purpose and the Silent King would retain the noctilith reserves he had promised as payment. If they survived, then noctilith would be a small price to pay for victory. So long as they played their part, their fate was irrelevant to them.
“Peletesz,” Nemekh said without so much as a cursory glace to the half rusted, tri-pedal Cryptek behind them, “ready the augmented puppet humans for war, translocate them to the moon’s surface one solar hour after the metahumans engage the enemy.”
“But Phaeron, I must protest…”
“I care not for your prattling, Cryptek.” Nemekh stated bluntly, raising a hand to silence the Technomancer. “You can get new toys to play with after the war is won. Humans literally infest the system with their presence, you’ll have your pick.”
A brief silence fell over the chamber as Peletesz processed his Phaeron’s command.
“As you wish, my Phaeron.” He said reluctantly. Peletesz knew such a strategy would greatly delay the completion of his great experiment, but he was also wise enough to know that refusing Nemekh’s orders was futile at best and dangerous at worst.
Nemekh watched as Dreadclaw Drop Pods shot from the astartes battlecruiser like miniature comets streaking across the void, awaiting the moment when they too would join in the assault against the Imperial base. And when that moment comes, the Phaeron thought to themself, it will spell the beginning of the end of the Humans’ pathetic attempts to claim the sector for themselves…
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