The Necrons Reappear [Introductory RP, Open, FT]

[The Necrons Triumphant]

++Our universe began in purity and it will return to that blessed state.++

The universe fights. Dozens of wars ripple daily through the surface of the Earth – Grestonians, Orderites, dozens of others unnamed nations bleed and die upon each other's blades, crushed under the tracks of tanks, burning in the unholy fires. For them, the slaughter is meaningful – glorious wars of conquest and liberation, justice and independence.

The universe trades. Billions of dollars, piasters, cents trade hands every seconds, with investments big enough to buy a sizeable country changing hand. Fortunes are made and unmade, companies rise and fall. This is a meaningful process to the traders and brokers – wealth, poverty, profit, loss, bankruptcy.

The universe breeds. Millions of men and women, humans, orks, Eldar, and species unnamed copulate, divide, impregnate, lay eggs, love each other, hug each other, swear immortal vows. For them, the breeding is meaningful – love, pleasure, continuation of their species.

To Lord El'kan'tan, that is all meaningless – like the struggling of ants upon a disturbed hive crushed by his living metal boot. He has been born millions of years ago. The very movement of organic life is to him like the squirming of disturbing insects.

His craft enters realspace at the outskirts of the Solar System – without the flash and pomp of portals, gaps in space-time, or anything like that. It just wasn't there, and now it is.

It lacks the magnificience and glamour of earthling engines. It does not have more than fifty meters in length, and whatever weapons it has are subtly concealed under its living-metal hull. It does not gleam in the light of the sun – and unless someone spots it maneuvering, it is but a piece of wreckage, shaped like a wedge – like an elderly arrowhead, discovered by a child playing in the sand.

It broadcasts a message:

Greetings, beings of the Solar system.

I am Lord El'kan'tan, emissary of a mighty and powerful God. I do not come to threaten you, and my vessel is not a vessel of war – but know now that attacking me is not recommended.

I have come to seek a place for an outpost in this system, and trade and peace with your various peoples.

Lord El'kan'tan is in doubt about this message – he knows that some of his kin have somewhat of a bad reputation here – and he doubt that people will believe in his peaceful intent.

He then makes out another message, sequestered and coded, to the necron civilization that already resides in this area.

Hail, brothers!

Previously, our contact with you was broken for circumstances beyond our control. We had then been stopped – by circumstances – from receiving the aid from you that we requested. We beg your pardon for this encroachment, and wish to ask for your assistance again – first of all, we wish to receive guidance from our brothers on the species that fill this system. They are diverse, teeming, and often barbaric, it seems. Which ones should we deal with? How? Which are your friends, servants, and enemies? Perhaps you can give us guidance.

For though we share our moment of birth, we have laid dormant for aeons, and awoke now to this new and strange world. You have lived in it and saw it born. Without doubt, your knowledge and experience will be a guide to us.

[The Ctan]

There were usually many necron ships in Sol.

At the moment, however, their numbers were depleted by concerns elsewhere that had drawn many of their ships away.

But they were still many.

The second planet of the system was the heart of the Necrons’ industry and operations within this most populous region of the galaxy, where the unavoidable chaos of the universe – to necrontyr, at least those speaking their accustomed dialect Eris meaning all that existed, in any ‘plane’ or parallel - seemed to spawn a countless myriad of cultures in one place.

The planet had been terraformed by immense effort on the part of the Necrons’ allies, down the years. Its rotation had been stabilized, its magnetic core re-booted and thermal cycle realigned. Its atmosphere pared down and changed to something humans could breathe.

But Sentinel One’s surface remained the rocky wasteland upon the surface, a nature preserve, almost, but for the occasional megalithic structure that broke its surface, far different from the forested Menelmacari colony, or the industrious practicality of the lands dominated by the ‘Pan-Norm.’

It was there that the ships that orbited the barren stretch of wasteland known officially as ‘Sentinel One’ to most humans received the signal. They studied its contact, its different phrasing, and recalled the analysis of a different group of their culture who had produced it.

The ship was a variation on the design lineage of the ‘assault shuttles’ they used – small, arrow-shaped. Theirs was larger, though, which was a surprise to them. They did not consider an inertialess drive smaller than one hundred meters in length to be entirely stable – they had a single ship design that used a smaller one of the class used in this craft. As a result, their shuttle was slimmer, more tapering, one hundred meters in all from pinpoint to stern.

The reply was simple, and direct.

There is no encroachment, we will most certainly be happy to provide you with information on the inhabitants of this most interesting system. Saw it born, though, is to say too much. Our universe requires much exploration yet, and much work to make as we would wish it.

If you permit, we shall teleport an emissary aboard.

[The Necrons Triumphant]

El'kan'tan is disappointed. He hadexpected to be allowed to visit the encampment of his brothers, to see the extent of their achievements. Sometimes, more knowledge can be gained from such a visit than the kind host even thinks possible – and his kind brothers probably knew that, as well. Perhaps they were suspicious of his master – and they certainly had reasons to be
.
Brothers, you are welcome aboard my ship at any time. However, do bear in mind that the conditions upon my shuttle are absolutely basic.

The necron lord is not joking. The control room's only luxuries are a viewscreen and control panel – and El'kan'tan prefers to forgo them for a direct link to the ship's cogitators. In secondary panels, fifty warriors lie in stasis until they are needed. Glowing runes on the walls provide for limited illumination.

Unlike some of his kin, El'kan'tan does not see a need to remind himself of the forgone age of flesh. He did not yearn for a new body of skin and bone and meat and sinew. Some thought it made him a more efficient administrator.

It may have contributed to making him a less efficient host, too.

[The Ctan]

The other necron lord’s cloak swirled as it appeared the air that had been displaced with its teleportation into its cousin’s ship stirring it as it dissipated. As with most necron lords, this one was considerably tall, gaunt and skeletal, its metal form draped in a new-seeming robe that hung over the wide carapace-like shoulders of its body. It carried a staff of light – traditionally these were individual badges of office, each one slightly different from any other lord’s, either in the shape of its blades, or in the elaborate necrontyr inscriptions typically placed upon them.

The necron bowed, the golden tracing on his new-seeming form glinting in the pale light of the cockpit, and he spoke.

He had been prepared to either, if the pressure was too low or non-existant, to speak using a suitable radio frequency, or using traditional audio methods should the atmosphere be sufficient. It made little difference to him, the limitations of flesh had long been left behind.

“I represent the lord Asirnoth,” he said naming one of the best known of the necrontyr names of the Void Dragon, corrupted long ago by poor translation to be used as a human name for one of his constructs, “we are happy to welcome you here.

“The first and most important of all questions when dealing with this system, what do you know of humans, the primary indigenous species? An understanding of this kind is most important when dealing within this galaxy…”

[The Necrons Triumphant]

“Greetings, brother.” - said El'kan'tan, inwardly surprised at his counterpart's use of a cloak.. He considered himself to be above such displays feigned mortality. His own metallic surfaces were completely exposed. He was a machine – or at least he preferred to see himself as such, emotionless, immortal and perfect.

“We have been watching human communications for a short while. We have recovered some knowledge of their anatomy and biology, however we are... stymied when it comes to exploring their culture and politics. It seems that Sol is filled with hundreds, perhaps thousands of human civilizations, each with distinct habits of its own. In some, shaking one's head like so -” the host demonstrates - “is a sign of confirmation, in others, of negation. Some are peaceful and kind, yet most are violent and brutal.”

“Most of them are short-lived – though some civilizations have found ways to transcend natural mortality, ways that they negate with their propensity to slaughter one another. Every day, news of new wars are on their audio and video feeds, every day they attempt to insert meaning into their short lives by making them even shorter. But their... moral fiber is not what is most concerning.”

“What is most concerning to me and my brothers is that we have not been able to confirm which of these civilizations are powerful and wealthy enough to approach for their friendship – for a lot of the humans' information is contradictory and self-congratulating – as you would expect from such beings, one supposes. We have been at a loss as to finding... objective data. Perhaps if we had more time... or the assistance of our brothers here?”

[The Ctan]

The necron seemed lost in thought at its comrade’s talk, the human lifespan was short, but once, though before his personal memory, the lifespan of the necrontyr had been even shorter. Nonetheless, he suspected that his cousin here did not wish to be reminded of the weaknesses of the flesh time, that had been so laboriously purged.

It said something interesting about this necron that he could criticize such biological failings in another species without trace of irony. He clearly did not like to think about the past.

“They are a complex species, with several sub-groupings. We can provide you, of course, with complete biological details,” this was easily done, there was no doubt that these Necrons could acquire such with ease, so the information was not valuable.

“However, making a simple list of which humans to interact with would be difficult. We can however, suggest a few that may be useful. If I may?” the necron lord said, stepping over to the ship’s control system, “There is currently a large trading post run by one of the most mature and sensible human civilizations in the system, a little outside the territory of the sixth planet in the system. This course should take you to a suitable standoff position without incident,” he added, it was of course, a trajectory for an inertialess drive equipped ship, a benefit of similar technology, “in order to establish contact.

“You mentioned trade. Aside from being a good place to contact various civilizations, this will provide an excellent means of establishing contact for that if you wish. What kind of items do you wish to sell? It has been our policy to not provide human-dominated cultures with our faster than light drives or military technologies, including power systems, for the obvious reasons that these could be used against them, even though most such polities would have no manner of determining their operating principles or duplicating them.

“More importantly, what if anything do you require? We would be quite willing to help you in a technical sense, should you have any immediate needs. Other than that, our comments on the civilizations of this sector are quite extensive. It would perhaps be best to demonstrate by interaction,” the Venus necron lord said, wondering whether its cousin would find the prospect of going out among the humans too distasteful to bear – he doubted it, that was its mission, after all.

---

OOC: Machiavelli Station is the place he’s pointing you at. We could, if you wish, move this there as I've been meaning to do something in that thread anyway, or continue in this thread, if you please.

[The Necrons Triumphant]

OOC: I believe it'd be better if we continue in this thread. I hope you do not mind.

IC: “We understand, from previous interactions with our brothers, that you would not take it kindly if our drives and weaponry were to be introduced to the human race. We understand now why. If they had our gauss guns and drives, then carnage on a new scale would be upon us. They would slaughter each other like competing ant hives, and then, surely, turn their new weapons on us. This is not desireable, of course.”

“But perhaps we have an... alternative, brother. It has been suggested by my superiors that when an object designed to serve a lower level of technology – for example, a stone knife – is produced by a level of technology like ours, then we can produce a stone knife much better than that which the caveman could ever dream of, and then sell it to the caveman – without advancing him to our level, where he could commit some atrocity upon us. He remains a caveman – though of course he can now cut the hides of primal animals easier and faster.”

“Perhaps after some studies of the human civilizations, we could set up a small colony in this Solar system, and then proceed to produce whatever items we might wish to sell – stone knives of some description, naturally – for the greater benefit of humanity.”

“Which brings me to two of my important points.”

“First of all, we believe perhaps it would be more efficient to establish a colony in Sol, where we would construct production plants for these... stone knives and other things, perhaps one that neighbors you and other sensible.. civilizations. Perhaps you know a good place for such a colony?”

“Second, more importantly, many of my brothers – and I stress, lest this offend you, that this is not an opinion universally shared by us all – that the movement of old, in which we shed our bounds of flesh, has not always been good to us. Our Master – and his servants – are now seeking ways for us to find immortality in a flesh form, perhaps one like the necrontyr forms of old. If someone were to assist our people in this struggle, they – and our Master as their leader – would surely be grateful. I, too, would be grateful, though I would personally prefer to opt out.”

[The Ctan]

“That is quite understandable, it is a goal some of us have shared, to greater or lesser degrees. Some have opted for an extreme of full conversion to organic form once more, albeit one improved with aspects of the biology of other species.” He didn’t expect an adverse reaction to that comment as transgenic change had never been a necrontyr taboo as it was for most humans, but then, how could he know how these Necrons had developed culturally? Although the necrontyr he was familiar with had generally looked like literally blue-blooded humans or Eldar, there had been many forms of biological life adopted in their long existence due to genetic engineering.

“There is certainly an immortality in these forms, or at least, a resistance to age and disease, but without the imperviousness of metal,” he said, tapping his knuckles against his metal chest.

“More commonly, those who wish to interact organically adopt lighter chassis frames under synthetic tissue or appropriate living metal. While we don’t doubt you could arrange any of these options for yourselves, we can certainly give you our information on all of them.”

“As for manufacturing. This is certainly correct. We manufacture a number of high technology items for export, ranging from items made of cruder grades of living metals, pre-programmed to assume useful shapes. For example, some of our number exported a simple powered tool, that could alter its movement and shape to fit any of the various screws, nuts, and other devices that it might encounter. I believe that sells quite readily.

“We do also provide power systems to some human cities, but only under license, and with precautions against tampering.”

“I wouldn’t advise calling the humans primitive if you wish their friendship, even when they are in many civilizations, in a state of absolute barbarism. Certainly stone knives would be, for most, a mere curiosity, but I understand your metaphor.”

[The Necrons Triumphant]

"Oh, do not doubt – if a human being were negotiating me, I would not call him a caveman."

"You may find it bizarre – for I see that you have transcended this problem – but we have had issues when it comes to transferring consciousness back into a fleshy body. Perhaps those of our brethren should come and discuss this with those of you who are so inclined. Tell me… you spoke about Venus… would it be possible for us to establish a presence there, perhaps a piece of land no more than the length of our larger Cairn-ships, so as to produce those items that the humans like, and to have a… more complex representation in this system than a mere 'embassy' or comms-center would allow? And further, would it be desireable for our Master to visit this system in person?"

[The Ctan]

“We can certainly agree to loan you such a space. For the sake of diplomacy, it may take some time before we are able to provide a permanent change of hands of any area of the planet’s surface. Venus has remained a tranquil world by the mutual respect of its inhabitants for one another, unlike the third and forth planets. Consequently, we would, as a courtesy, consult our neighbours. I have no reason to believe, however, that they would raise any objections.

“We would be quite happy to host any visits from your people and leaders, and provide all the information you may require on the necessary autonomic neural rebuild techniques. It is quite an interesting topic, I would say.”

[The Necrons Triumphant]

"A most excellent plan," - the other necron admits. - "And considering those neighbors of yours already have one necron neighbor, they surely wouldn't mind another - as long as we're peaceful and respectful, of course. We shall of course invite their representatives to visit our factorium, so they can be assured that we mean them no harm. And I would do my level best to ensure my Master grants them his... or her audience."

"But you have more wisdom and knowledge, brother. Are there hidden flaws in this plan that I am not aware of?"

[The Ctan]

“As far as I am aware, there appear to be no problems with your plan.

“If I may ask a question however, what brings this on? You must have some reason for this, is it simple curiosity about the doings of the flesh-lings, or is it perhaps that you wish to learn more about this species for other reasons?

“If you could specify what in particular your research goals are, then it would be easier to assist you in achieving your goals.”

[The Necrons Triumphant]

"There are two reasons: one is the reason of diplomacy, for we need to know these humans if we are to become a factor in this system. More important, however, is the fact - a fact you may fact disturbing- that many of my brothers have come to resent these pure metal forums that you and I wear. They have implored our Master to seek an alternate, a flesh form for them try to live in and cheat age and wear, and our Master has been merciful and kind and is now searching for ways to do that now that we have awoken. I apologize if you find this trend... disturbing. Such are my brethren."

If the necron lord were human, it might shrug in embarrassment, or even blush. But it isn't, so it doesn't.

[The Necrons Triumphant]

OOC: I've sent you a telegram.

[The Ctan]

The necron lord has no qualms about thinking along those lines, though it is among a majority of those on Venus who do not pursue alternate lives in the flesh on other worlds. It is the most conservative and machine-minded of its kind, this was thought to be a good idea in case just such a thing were to be encountered. The Void Dragon had no easy way of knowing how changes to their culture would be taken by other Necrons.

“Humans are already quite important,” he added. “In any case, your ‘master’ is most welcome to visit us."

[The Necrons Triumphant]

"Very well," - El'kan'tan nodded - "I shall relay your wishes to him." - in fact, he would relay more than just the words of his opposing number. He would share his memory recording of the entire conversation with him, so that every word and intonation and gesture could be analyzed - "Would you have any requests, of ceremonial or diplomatic nature, that I should relay?"

Inwardly, he was pleased at how rapildy and easily his work was resolved, but, of course, his living metal visage did not betray any emotion at all.