Conclave: The Harvest

The Archivist let the flow of information run across the hololithic display in front of him, examining each rune as it swiftly passed in front of his single unblinking eye, although in reality it wasn’t an eye, not really, one could perhaps call it an ocular relay or a scanning device. The planet had remained largely unchanged in the long millenia that he had slumbered. Once it was known as Xanthipec, a minor provincial planet situated somewhere in the galactic northwest. No wars had ever been fought over Xanthipec, its primary function had always been as a site for harvesting precious crystals and minerals and little else. Barring this singular distinction, the planet was completely ordinary in every other way. Perhaps that is why it had attracted the attention of the younger races. He had heard of these “humans” from the information collection carried out by his scouting forces and from dealing with members of dynasties that had awoken before his. In the long years of his species’ rest, the humans, Krorks, Eldar and others had spread all throughout the Silent King’s domain. He mused on what some of his more warlike contemporaries would have to say on the subject. Unlike many of the Lords and Phaerons of the Necron dynasties the Archivist held himself as an Arch-Cryptek first, ever curious about the deeper workings of the universe around him. He cared not for the petty details of “affronts to honor” and “birthright” he only cared about one thing: the amassing of knowledge. Perhaps the long years in stasis had only turned that into an obsession in his mind? Regardless, he looked back down to the data stream and made his decision. With a thought-impulse he bid his dais over to where his Technomancer labored on his latest Canoptek marvels. “Technomancer, I have a job that requires your skillset”.

The Imperial border world of Marksburg had been unremarkable in most ways, the planet’s crust was too thin to support the construction of hive cities, its soil too barren for agriculture. The only saving grace of the planet was the mineral wealth. And so it was that Marksburg became a mining colony, several Mechanicus-ran mining operations dotting the surface of the planet. The population of human colonists that eked out a living on the rocky surface of the planet either worked in the mines or provided services to the miners. The planetary governor of Marksburg also maintained a small garrison of poorly trained and poorly equipped Planetary Defense Forces. Stationed along the vital plasma relay conduits it was on these poor souls that the Canoptek Artificer and his creations fell upon.

Those who had witnessed the emergence of the Necron strike force would have seen reality sliced by the appearance of a green disk, one by one disgorging the Technomancer and his Canoptek menagerie only to disappear in a blink of light.

Attempting to hide the visible fear in his face, the PDF Major barks orders to his men “Infantry platoons, forward!”. Apprehensively, the guardsmen take their first steps forward into position to counter this newly arrived threat. “Open fire!” commands the Major and the guardsmen begin firing off half-hearted salvos of las-fire. The Technomancer chuckles as the rudimentary laser fire harmlessly deflects off of the hardened ceramic-alloy of his creations. Accompanied by this Lychguard defenders, the Technomancer advances forward intent on removing the defenders and harvesting resources from this plasmic relay node.

Chittering Scarabs move over one another in waves as they approach the frontline of planetary defenders, malice gleams in their singular eye as overlapping waves of las-fire thin out there numbers to no avail. A Stormeagle rocket flies off the Manticore’s rail, impacting a Canoptek Wraith and shattering the construct beyond repair. Automated weapons fire from the Aegis Defense Line targets the approaching Wraiths but rudimentary servitor fails to find home with the powerful las-beams. It was then that the Canoptek host fell upon the guardmen, across the line of engagement Scarabs, Wraiths, Lychguard and the Canoptek Sentinel fell upon the ill-prepared defenders.

The data stream in the Technomancer’s mind captured all that his constructs saw, elevated perspiration as the human defenders struggled to stem the tide, elevated heart rates as faces contorted in terror and specks of vitae hanging in the air as the constructs went about their ghoulish work. In the end there was little the defenders could have done to defend themselves against such a relentless onslaught, the Technomancer had had millenia to master his craft, each creation perfected to his meticulous standards. Once the chaff had been cleared away, the Technomancer set his Spyder and Scarabs to the work of harvesting the plasma from the relay. Setting up several energy micro-syphons the Technomancer created a supply flow back to the Ascendant Truth. For the first time in an eternity resources began to flow back to the station, although this was but a trickle of what the station had once used up, it was the first step in a long path that would see the Necrontyr people ascendant in the galaxy once again. The Archivist would be pleased with this, the mineral wealth of this planet and the energy provided by the plasma feeds would be useful in repairing the damage sustained by the Ascendant Truth, not to mention the raw material available for building ever greater Canoptek machines.

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