The Expeditionary Fleet

The void between stars erupted into a kaleidoscope of destruction as Overlord Amenhotep's fleet, the Fist of Anuket, emerged from the Dolmen Gates. At its heart, the colossal Cairn-class Tomb Ship "Eternal Dominion" led the charge, its ancient hull bristling with weaponry that defied comprehension.

Amenhotep stood on the command deck, his necrodermis form gleaming in the eerie green light of the ship's systems. His gaze swept across the holographic displays showing the Advex-Mors cluster - six worlds now under his direct control, a gift from Phaeron Kha'resh Mek himself.

"Status report," he commanded, his voice resonating with the authority of millions of years.

A Necron Lord stepped forward, bowing slightly. "My lord, the outer defense grid is at 98% efficiency. The killzones have been established as per your specifications, and our patrols report no anomalies."

Amenhotep nodded, satisfaction evident in his glowing eyes. "Excellent. And the inner defenses?"

"Progressing ahead of schedule, my lord. The Canoptek Scarabs are constructing fortifications on all six worlds simultaneously. We estimate full implementation within three solar cycles."

As Amenhotep continued to receive reports and issue orders, his mind wandered to the reason for such extensive preparations. Intelligence gathered by the Sahkar-Tet Dynasty spoke of a rapidly expanding human empire - the Imperium of Man. Their so-called "Great Crusade" was sweeping across the galaxy, subjugating or destroying all in its path.

Meanwhile, light-years away, an Imperial Expeditionary Fleet pushed ever onward through the void. At its head was the battle barge "Angel's Wrath," flagship of the Dark Angels Space Marine Legion. On its bridge stood Captain Astelan, his power armor adorned with the insignia of the First Legion.

"Another world brought to compliance, brother-captain," reported a battle-brother, handing Astelan a data-slate. "The planet's leadership has sworn fealty to the Emperor."

Astelan nodded, his eyes already on the star charts showing their next targets. "Good. The Emperor's light spreads ever further. What of our next destination?"

The battle-brother hesitated. "We're approaching a cluster designated Advex-Mors, six worlds on the edge of known space. Long-range auspex scans show... unusual energy readings."

Astelan's eyes narrowed. "Xenos?"

"Unknown, brother-captain. The readings don't match anything in our databases."

Back in the Advex-Mors system, Amenhotep received a priority transmission from Tjet'amun, the crown world of the Sahkar-Tet Dynasty. Phaeron Kha'resh Mek's image materialized before him, the Godslayer's presence commanding even through the holographic projection.

"Overlord Amenhotep," Kha'resh intoned, "our long-range sensors have detected a sizable fleet approaching your sector. It appears to be an expedition force of this... Imperium of Man."

Amenhotep bowed deeply. "What are your orders, my Phaeron?"

Kha'resh's eyes flared with ancient energies. "Test the waters, Amenhotep. Let us see what these humans are truly capable of. Engage them, but do not commit your full forces. I want to know their strengths, their weaknesses, and their resolve."

"It shall be done, my lord," Amenhotep replied, a cold anticipation building within his metallic frame.

As the Imperial fleet entered the outskirts of the Advex-Mors system, they were met with an awe-inspiring sight. A vast Necron fleet hung in the void, arrayed in a formation that spoke of millions of years of void warfare experience.

Captain Astelan stared at the tactical display, his superhuman mind racing to process the implications. "By the Emperor," he breathed. "What manner of xenos are these?"

Before he could issue orders, space itself seemed to tear open. Sickly green energies poured forth as the Necron fleet opened fire. Gauss beams lanced across the void, their otherworldly energies bypassing void shields to strike directly at Imperial hulls.

"Evasive maneuvers!" Astelan roared. "All ships, return fire!"

The Imperial fleet responded with a fury born of righteous zeal. Lance batteries unleashed searing beams of energy, while massive macro-cannons hurled city-block-sized projectiles towards the Necron ships.

To Amenhotep's surprise, some of these crude physical projectiles managed to penetrate their energy shields, impacting against necrodermis hulls with thunderous force.

"What manner of barbarism is this!" Amenhotep mused, watching the battle unfold. "For a galaxy-wide empire, they certainly seem fond of hurling rocks through space."

He turned to his chief Cryptek. "Adjust our barrier systems. Lower the frequencies to track and intercept these physical projectiles. It seems our defenses were calibrated for more... advanced weaponry."

The Cryptek bowed and set to work immediately. Within moments, the effectiveness of the Imperial barrage decreased dramatically. Massive shells that had been causing damage now disintegrated harmlessly against the recalibrated Necron shields.

As the battle raged on, Amenhotep found himself grudgingly impressed by the tenacity of the Imperial forces. Despite being hopelessly outmatched in technology, they fought with a fervor that bordered on the fanatical.

"Perhaps there is more to these humans than meets the eye," he thought to himself. "Their resolve, at least, is commendable."

However, resolve alone was not enough to overcome the vast technological gap. As the hours wore on, the Imperial fleet found itself being systematically dismantled. Ships were reduced to drifting hulks or atomized entirely by the relentless Necron assault.

Captain Astelan, his armor scorched and his face grim, finally gave the order to retreat. "We cannot win this battle," he declared, his voice heavy with the weight of defeat. "We must withdraw and warn the Imperium of this new threat."

As the remnants of the Imperial fleet - barely 10% of its original strength - limped away from the Advex-Mors system, Amenhotep allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. The Sahkar-Tet Dynasty had faced its first true test against the Imperium of Man and emerged victorious.

He immediately composed a report for Phaeron Kha'resh Mek, detailing the battle and his observations on Imperial technology and tactics. He made special note of the humans' use of physical projectiles and their apparent disregard for casualties.

"Most interesting," Kha'resh's reply came swiftly. "You have done well, Amenhotep. This encounter has provided valuable data. Continue to fortify the Advex-Mors cluster. I suspect this is only the beginning of our interactions with the Imperium of Man."

As Amenhotep set about implementing new defensive measures based on what he'd learned from the battle, he reflected on the unique nature of the Sahkar-Tet Dynasty. Unlike many Necron dynasties, set in their ancient ways, the Sahkar-Tet under Kha'resh Mek's leadership had maintained their ability to adapt.

"Pride has its place," Amenhotep mused, "but flexibility ensures survival. The galaxy has changed in our long sleep. We must change with it if we are to reclaim our rightful place as its masters."

-------------------------------------------

The Emperor's summons came without warning, a psychic pulse that resonated through the very bones of the Phalanx, the Imperial Fists' mobile fortress-monastery. Lion El'Jonson, Primarch of the Dark Angels, felt it first, his superhuman senses attuned to the slightest fluctuation in the Warp. Moments later, a more mundane vox transmission followed, calling for an immediate council of war.

Lion's face remained impassive as he made his way to the Phalanx's strategium, his mind already racing through potential scenarios that would warrant such an urgent gathering. As he entered the vast chamber, he noted the presence of his brother Primarch, Leman Russ of the Space Wolves, already pacing like a caged animal.

"Brother," Lion nodded in greeting, his voice carefully neutral.

Leman grunted in response, his wild mane of hair and beard giving him the appearance of a feral warrior-king from ancient Terran myth. "Any idea what this is about, Lion? I was in the midst of a glorious feast when our Father's call came."

Before Lion could respond, the air in the center of the strategium shimmered and coalesced into the towering, golden-armored form of the Emperor of Mankind. Both Primarchs immediately dropped to one knee, bowing their heads in reverence.

"Rise, my sons," the Emperor's voice echoed with power and authority. "We face a grave threat, one that requires the combined might of your legions to address."

With a gesture, the Emperor conjured a holographic display of a star system. "This is the Advex-Mors cluster, six worlds on the fringes of known space. An expeditionary fleet was dispatched to bring these worlds into compliance, but they encountered something... unexpected."

The hologram shifted, showing grainy pict-captures of sleek, metallic ships unlike anything the Primarchs had seen before. "These xenos vessels annihilated our fleet with ease. Of the 200,000 ships sent, only 200 limped back to Imperial space."

Lion's eyes narrowed as he studied the images. "What manner of xenos are these, Father? Their technology appears far beyond anything we've encountered."

"They call themselves the Necrontyr or Necrons," the Emperor replied, his voice heavy with the weight of ancient knowledge. "They are a race of soulless machines, awakening from a slumber that has lasted millions of years. Their technology is indeed formidable, perhaps surpassing even that of the Peak of Our Race."

Leman Russ growled, his hand instinctively tightening on the hilt of his frost blade. "Then we shall smash them back into their slumber, Father. Give the word, and the Vlka Fenryka will tear these metal monsters apart!"

The Emperor raised a hand, silencing Leman's battle-lust. "It will not be so simple, Leman. These Necrons possess weapons that can bypass our most advanced void shields, and their own defenses are equally formidable. This will require strategy as much as strength."

He turned to Lion El'Jonson. "Lion, you will take overall command of this campaign. Your tactical acumen and the stealth capabilities of the Dark Angels will be crucial in gathering intelligence and striking at key targets."

Lion bowed his head, accepting the responsibility with characteristic stoicism. "It shall be done, Father. We will not fail you."

"Leman," the Emperor continued, "your Space Wolves will provide the hammer to Lion's scalpel. When the time comes for all-out assault, there are none I trust more to lead the charge."

Leman grinned ferally, already anticipating the coming battle. "Aye, we'll show these metal men the fury of Fenris!"

"Remember, my sons," the Emperor's voice took on a note of warning, "this enemy is unlike any you have faced before. They do not know fear, they do not tire, and they possess technology that may seem like sorcery to our mortal eyes. Caution and adaptability will be as important as courage in this campaign."

With those final words, the Emperor's form shimmered and faded, leaving the two Primarchs alone in the strategium. For a moment, silence reigned as both brothers contemplated the magnitude of the task before them.

A Few Hours Later....

The strategium aboard the Invincible Reason hummed with barely contained energy as Lion El'Jonson, Primarch of the Dark Angels, stood before a massive hololithic display of the Advex-Mors cluster. His piercing gaze swept over the tactical readouts, analyzing every detail with superhuman precision.

The door hissed open, and Leman Russ strode in, his wild mane of hair and beard giving him the appearance of a feral king from ancient Terran myth. He nodded curtly to Lion, who returned the gesture with equal brevity.

"Brother," Lion said, his voice cool and formal. "I trust you've reviewed the intelligence reports?"

Leman grunted, moving to stand beside the hololithic display. "Aye, I've read your reports. Lots of words to say we know next to nothing about these metal bastards."

Lion's eyes narrowed slightly at the dismissive tone, but he chose not to comment on it. Instead, he manipulated the controls, zooming in on one of the six worlds in the cluster.

"Our long-range scans indicate this planet, designated Advex-Mors III, has the highest concentration of Necron activity," Lion explained. "It appears to be their primary stronghold in the system."

Leman studied the hologram, his keen tactical mind belying his barbaric appearance. "Heavily fortified, by the looks of it. Those energy readings... never seen anything like it."

Lion nodded. "Indeed. Their technology far surpasses our own. Direct assault would be... inadvisable."

Leman's lip curled in a half-snarl. "So what do you propose, brother? Sneak about in the shadows like your precious Calibanite forests?"

"Stealth will play a crucial role, yes," Lion replied, ignoring the jab. "But it will be part of a larger strategy. Observe."

He manipulated the hologram again, highlighting several key points around the planet. "These appear to be their primary defense nodes. If we can disrupt them simultaneously, it might create an opening for a more direct assault."

Leman folded his arms, considering. "And how do you plan to get close enough for this precision strike? Those metal bastards will see us coming parsecs away."

"That," Lion said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice, "is where your Wolves come in."

He brought up a new display, showing a massive asteroid field on the outskirts of the system. "We'll use these to mask our approach. Your fleet will launch an all-out assault on the outer defenses here," he indicated a point on the opposite side of the planet from the asteroid field. "It should draw their attention long enough for my Dark Angels to infiltrate and strike at the defense nodes."

Leman's eyes glittered with the prospect of battle. "So we're to be the anvil to your hammer, eh? And what if these Necrons don't take the bait? What if they simply obliterate my fleet from afar?"

"They won't," Lion stated with certainty. "The data we've gathered suggests they prefer total victory to partial destruction. They'll want to engage your fleet directly, to ensure no survivors can escape to warn the Imperium."

Leman nodded slowly, grudging respect in his eyes. "A sound strategy, I'll grant you that. But it puts my Wolves at great risk."

"War is risk, brother," Lion replied coldly. "Unless you feel your legion is not up to the task?"

Leman's hand twitched toward his frost blade, but he restrained himself. "Watch your words, Lion. The Vlka Fenryka fear nothing, least of all death in glorious battle. We'll play our part, never doubt it."

Lion inclined his head slightly. "Good. Once the defense nodes are down, you'll have a short window to press your attack. We'll need to coordinate precisely to exploit any weakness we create."

"Aye, precision timing," Leman said with a wolfish grin. "Not exactly my legion's strong suit, but we'll manage. What of the other planets in the system?"

Lion brought the full cluster back into view. "Secondary targets, for now. Once we've established a foothold on Advex-Mors III, we can use it as a base to launch operations against the others."

Leman paced around the hologram, his mind working through the battle to come. "It's a solid plan, brother, I'll give you that. But it hinges on a lot of unknowns. What if their defenses are even stronger than we anticipate? What if they have weapons we haven't seen yet?"

"Then we adapt," Lion said simply. "That's why I need you and your Wolves ready to exploit any opportunity, any weakness we uncover. Your... unpredictability... could be a significant asset against an enemy that relies on logic and patterns."

Leman raised an eyebrow at the backhanded compliment but nodded. "Fair enough. We'll be ready to unleash hell on your signal."

As they continued to discuss the finer points of the strategy, a tension remained between them, born of years of rivalry and fundamental differences in their natures. Yet there was also a grudging respect, an acknowledgment that each brought unique strengths to the campaign.

"There's one more thing," Lion said as they were wrapping up. "The Emperor stressed the importance of capturing Necron technology intact if possible. We need to understand their capabilities better if we're to face them on a larger scale."

Leman snorted. "Easier said than done. You expect my Wolves to play archaeologist in the middle of a battlefield?"

"I expect you to show restraint when necessary," Lion replied sharply. "This isn't just about victory in this one system. The knowledge we gain here could be crucial for the entire Imperium."

"Fine," Leman growled. "We'll try not to break all their toys. But I make no promises once the blood starts flowing."

Lion sighed internally but nodded. It was as much as he could hope for from the Wolf King. "Very well. We'll hold a final briefing with our top commanders before we exit the Warp. I suggest you use the remaining time to prepare your legion for the task ahead."

Leman grinned ferally. "Oh, they'll be ready, brother. The Vlka Fenryka are always ready for a good fight."

As Leman turned to leave, Lion called out, "Leman." The Wolf King paused at the door, looking back. "Whatever our differences," Lion continued, his voice carefully neutral, "know that I have full confidence in your legion's ability to execute their part of this plan."

Leman studied his brother for a moment, then nodded. "And despite your penchant for sneaking about, I trust your strategic mind. Together, we'll send these metal bastards back to their tombs."

With that, he strode out, leaving Lion alone with the holographic display of Advex-Mors. The Primarch of the Dark Angels turned back to the tactical readouts, his mind already refining the plan, considering contingencies, preparing for every possibility he could foresee.

As the combined fleet of the Dark Angels and Space Wolves neared the end of its Warp journey, tension built throughout the ships. Astartes of both legions prepared their wargear, checked and rechecked their weapons, and steeled themselves for the coming battle.

In his private chambers, Lion El'Jonson meditated, his transhuman mind processing countless scenarios, refining strategies, and preparing for the monumental task ahead. On the other side of the fleet, Leman Russ led his Wolves in ancient Fenrisian war rites, their howls echoing through the halls of their ships.

Two Primarchs, as different as night and day, united in purpose if not in method. As the fleet prepared to translate back into realspace, the fate of the Advex-Mors cluster - and perhaps the Imperium itself - hung in the balance. The Necrons were about to face the full might of the Emperor's finest, in a clash that would shake the very stars.

-----------------------------------

The grand hall of Tje'tamun echoed with an eerie silence as four of the most powerful Overlords in the Sahkar-Tet Dynasty assembled before their Phaeron. Kha'resh Mek, the Godslayer, sat motionless upon his obsidian throne, his form radiating an aura of absolute authority that even these ancient and mighty Necrons could not help but acknowledge, His Headress emits shadowy tendrils that shift in shape, form and Color were emitted from his form, A Testament to the Godslayer recently acquiring the Deciever and the Nightbringer's powers.

As the last of the Overlords took their place, Kha'resh's eyes flared with Golden fire. "My loyal servants," his voice resonated through the chamber, "I have summoned you to address the situation in the Advex-Mors cluster. Amenhotep has performed admirably thus far, but the humans are not to be underestimated. One of you will be sent to reinforce his position."

The words had barely left Kha'resh's mouth when the air crackled with tension. The four Overlords exchanged glances, each calculating the potential benefits and risks of such an assignment.

Sekhet the Void Weaver was the first to speak, his voice measured and calm. "My Phaeron, while I do not doubt Amenhotep's capabilities, perhaps a more... cautious approach is warranted. My expertise in void warfare could prove invaluable in countering these humans' naval tactics."

Before Sekhet could continue, Nefertari the Eternal cut in, her voice dripping with barely concealed ambition. "Caution? Is that what we've been reduced to after millions of years of slumber? No, what Amenhotep needs is a show of overwhelming force. My legions stand ready to crush these upstart humans and secure our dominance in the cluster."

Imhotep the Architect, who had been studying a holographic display of the Advex-Mors defenses, looked up with disdain. "Both of you miss the point entirely. This is not merely about victory in a single campaign. We must use this opportunity to study these humans, to understand their weaknesses. My research could-"

"Research?" Nephthys the Silent interrupted, her usually hushed voice now sharp with paranoia. "While you tinker in your laboratories, Imhotep, the real threat grows. My intelligence network has uncovered disturbing patterns in human expansion. We cannot afford to treat this as a mere scientific endeavor."

Kha'resh remained silent, his impassive gaze moving from one Overlord to another as they argued. Though no muscle moved in his metallic face, there was a glint of something almost like amusement in his eyes.

Nefertari turned to face Nephthys, her voice laden with sarcasm. "And what would you have us do, oh Silent One? Cower in the shadows, jumping at every imagined threat? We are Necrons, the rightful rulers of this galaxy. We should act like it."

"Arrogance," Sekhet interjected, "is what led to our downfall once before. We must proceed with caution, gather more intelligence before committing our full strength."

Imhotep let out a sound that might have been a snort if he still possessed organic parts. "Intelligence is worthless without the means to exploit it. My new weapons systems could turn the tide of this conflict before it truly begins."

"Weapons?" Nephthys hissed. "And how do we know these untested contraptions won't backfire, leaving us vulnerable? No, what we need is subterfuge, to undermine these humans from within."

The argument continued to escalate, each Overlord vying for supremacy, their ancient rivalries bubbling to the surface despite their shared loyalty to the dynasty. Accusations flew, thinly veiled threats were exchanged, and more than once, the crackle of energy weapons being primed echoed through the chamber.

Through it all, Kha'resh Mek sat motionless, observing. To an outsider, it might have seemed as though he had lost control of his subordinates. But the Phaeron understood the delicate balance of Necron politics he noted that even his Shadow Nephthys was embroiled in this dispute clearly she cares about the Dynasty despite her personality of avoiding politics which the Phaeron quietly approved off. This conflict, carefully managed, served to sharpen his Overlords, to push them to greater heights of strategy and ambition.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of bickering, Kha'resh raised a hand. The effect was immediate - all four Overlords fell silent, turning to face their Phaeron.

"You have all made... interesting points," Kha'resh said, his tone impossible to read. "But you forget yourselves. It is not for you to decide the fate of this campaign. That right belongs to me alone."

The Overlords bowed their heads, a mix of shame and resentment evident in their postures.

"Nefertari," Kha'resh continued, "you will take your forces to Advex-Mors. Reinforce Amenhotep's position and prepare for a major human assault."

Nefertari straightened, triumph gleaming in her eyes. "It shall be done, my Phaeron. The humans will rue the day they dared to challenge the Sahkar-Tet Dynasty."

The other Overlords shifted uneasily, but none dared to question Kha'resh's decision openly.

"However," Kha'resh added, his gaze sweeping over the others, "this does not mean your contributions are unneeded. Sekhet, I want detailed void battle strategies prepared and transmitted to Amenhotep. Imhotep, you will accelerate your weapons research - we may have need of it sooner than anticipated. And Nephthys, intensify your intelligence gathering efforts. I want to know every move these humans make before they make it."

Each Overlord nodded in turn, their earlier animosity temporarily set aside in the face of their Phaeron's commands.

"Remember," Kha'resh said, rising from his throne, his form seeming to grow even more imposing, "you are the pinnacle of Necron nobility, the finest Overlords in the galaxy. Your petty rivalries are beneath you. In the face of this human threat, you will work together, you will coordinate your efforts, and you will ensure the absolute triumph of our dynasty."

The Overlords bowed deeply, murmuring their assent.

"Now go," Kha'resh commanded. "Prepare your forces. The galaxy trembled before us once. It shall do so again."

A/N: Would Ya'll be interested in a Primarch book?