While Rachel pressed forward, Luka and Orvillea continued exploring the Necron tomb.
The wrecked Canoptek Spyder, destroyed by a Flayed One, was Orvillea's prize. Delighted, her zeal turned reckless, craving more treasures.
Luka stayed calm. He knew their small force couldn't risk waking the tomb's skeletal defenders—one misstep meant annihilation.
Not cowardice. They'd found a stasis chamber with over fifty Necron Warriors, enough to crush Luka, Orvillea, and his Battle Sisters. Even as a psyker, Luka was no match here. Necrons, veterans against Eldar and Old Ones, countered psykers easily, and the tomb's blackstone suppressed his stronger abilities.
When Orvillea moved to tamper with the stasis chamber, Luka grabbed her. Two Battle Sisters aimed boltguns at her head.
"Honored Sage," Luka said coldly, "stay calm and recall our agreement." No deference, despite her being his only Mechanicus ally.
Unfazed, Orvillea aimed her plasma rifle at Luka's head. "Governor, you're breaking our pact. Assist me in excavating this relic!"
"No," Luka replied, steady despite the gun. Inquisitor's discipline held him firm. "We agreed on a survey. You're risking the tomb's defenses."
He understood her fervor—a room of alien tech and a sixty-million-year-old stasis field was irresistible to a tech-priest, even a biologis. But understanding wasn't agreement. Luka couldn't let her awaken the Necrons, risking planetary war.
The Mechanicus never considered consequences, only their prizes. The Imperium's losses? Irrelevant. The double-headed aquila never meant unity. In the Great Crusade, the Emperor and Primarchs bent Mars. The High Lords couldn't. The Mechanicus acted as equals, not subordinates, their goals misaligned.
Luka had watched for Orvillea's impulsiveness. When she acted, he stopped her.
Orvillea didn't explain. Her plasma rifle hummed, charging.
Luka drew his plasma pistol, charging it. His Battle Sisters aimed at Orvillea, ready to fire.
Tension peaked. Then, rustling echoed from a passage.
In sync, Luka and Orvillea fired at the sound. Plasma bolts lit up a swarm of metallic scarabs, green orbs glowing like a starry carpet rushing toward them.
"Form up! Engage!" Luka ordered, firing while glancing at Orvillea. "We leave, Sage!"
Orvillea's face showed reluctance but she fired back, shouting, "I brought melta bombs. Destroy the chamber, take what we can!"
Luka gritted his teeth but nodded. "Move fast!"
He hadn't come just to scout—he wanted loot to sell. The Spyder was a start, but more was better.
Orvillea sent her servitors to plant melta bombs in the chamber. The anti-armor explosives would melt most relics, but time was short.
Beyond the scarabs, two massive Canoptek Spyders emerged, their repair claws fixing damaged scarabs while deploying new ones.
Luka shouted, "Sage, we're out of time!"
A massive explosion answered.
(Chapter End)