Meeting the Fabricator General of Mars was a bit easier today, perhaps for my valuable STC donations and a casual nod from the Omnissiah himself.

"Lord Lancefire, I hope are pleased with the Forge's support for your Nobilitas Primus rank. Now you stand among the elite of the Imperium." the Fabricator proclaimed in a grand voice. Mars did support my nomination for a Tier 1 Noble rank, with its privileges and additional problems.

I scanned the machine man with my other senses, and found his chassis filled with ancient technological marvels, half of which I had no idea what they did. The other half, I did know what they could do, and it kinda made me worried. I would survive those things now, but a meager Daemon Primarch would not. The Fabricator was a portable Titan in a far smaller chassis!

"Yes, I have become a Noble on Holy Terra. Which planet is now on the other side of the Zone Mortalis. The Omnissiah wants me to clear up the way and secure a route for his Imperial Webway junction into the Imperium Sanctus. Your Forge can be of some help." I answered in a serious voice, and poked the nearest hololith projector to transfer the equipment requisition models and quantities.

A kind of whirring noise emerged from the Arch-Magos, possibly a sad laughter if I knew my tech-priest lore.

"I see. A billion remote controlled-drones, armed with a low-caliber autocannon and networked into your flagship's Machine Spirit. Forty million Armed Sentinels, each arm holding a twin-Ion Beam projector. And another million Nova Shells, encased in blackstone and primed for remote detonation via a single Mind Impulse Unit. Yours, I would hazard a guess?" the Fabricator asked rhetorically, and perhaps sarcastically. Hard to say with tech-priests anyway, but this one was already 99% metal, so his tone of voice was suspect.

"Not only that, but the Mortalis Crusade is scheduled to depart in three weeks, or as soon the reactors are refueled. It is a tight fit, but I expect we will manage to accomplish the Omnissiah's Will regardless. Now, we only need to create a procedure for this operation. Give me work-hour numbers, metal mass and temporal estimations as expected for 10% of your entire Forge dedicated to this divine task." I demanded in a more relaxed voice.

The Blade was already computing a parallel calculation for this task, and surprisingly finished at the same time as the Fabricator. Their numbers also matched to 99%, so I was pretty sure they were both correct. The Blade added a single extra equation, compressing the time needed into three weeks. Still within the possible, but with a lot of strain on my new temporal acceleration powers. I sighed inward, and decided to endure the coming pain anyway. No victory without sacrifice, after all. I would do my own part.

"As you see, Emissary of the Omnissiah, a millenium of hard work...if the resources were even available in such quantities." the Fabricator said with a glance at the holographic timeline.

"Acceptable. I will provide the temporal compression such that my Crusade departs on time. And the metal as well. My Rogue Trader expedition in the Galactic Core was rather profitable. Your Forge's technicians will carry the work-load, and gain the expertise of a thousand years without the organic degradation. Be so kind as to flag on the noosphere the available and qualified personnel, and take them off regular work for three weeks. Yourself as well. Your Fabricator-Locum will have to suffice while you are away doing the Omnissiah's work." I said with a casual shrug.

By the next minute, my tesseract was filled with Mars tech-priests and acolytes of a hundred specialities, everything from basic munition fabrication to advanced logis-engines for flying drones and newer experts on Ion technology, received by Mars some 700 years ago from yours truly.

My newest Mars-pattern Sentinel was basically a human version of the T'au battlesuit, including Ion weapons and shield.

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Not coincidentally, since Ion Shields were largelly immune to the most common Necron weapons like the Gauss guns, while Ion weapons were also quite effective versus machine-based warforms like the Necrons and their other constructs.

While the tech-priests worked in fast-time to construct my Crusade equipment, my own crew and tech-marines also worked to prepare our existing power armor and dreadnought suits for anti-Necron work, and the same for the Knights and Titans.

The Blade AI was happy to receive an arsenal of delta-shaped drones able to shoot her baby tungsten shells, even if they were still decorated with an eagle head and metal feathers to keep with Imperial culture. Mars-pattern Eagle drone, a simple but possibly efficient use of materials. Real war was the best test bed for any weapon system, but the Blade was already convinced of the effectiveness of networked swarms of drones. The AI was smart, so I leaned on believing her for now.

The C'tan wolves also helped a little, producing more Phase Blades, etheric detectors and engram-scrambling weaponry, in the form of grenades and missiles.

A certain Inquisitor wife hopped about from realspace into my tesseract dimensions to check on the progress, while I just laid in bed, and endured the pain of temporal compression by indulging in a millennium of constant procreation with my extended harem of concubines. Hard work, I know, but I don't complain. Stoic type, right?

Lastly, my newly acquired Solitaire brothers received extra training and auramite light armor covered in blackstone plates, along with C'tan Phase Blades and special bionic upgrades usually destined for the Officio Assassinorum. But since their role would be to infiltrate and assassinate Necron Lords and overseers, the advanced equipment was not only needed but necessary.

By miracle and hard work, most of the Crusade equipment was ready by the time limit, as well as new Blank sons and daughters born and trained in speed-time, to become Astartes and ship crew, plus other support roles like tech-marines, librarians and apothecaries.

A millennium of gene-seed pumping barely provided me with enough Blanks to crew the fleet with enough numbers to replace non-blank personnel, which were not allowed to participate in the Zone Mortalis incursion. Because non-blanks would simply die, as tested by numerous brave Imperials over the past 600 years.

Before we departed, I met with Corax and Perturabo to give them their next task.

"Collect the Iron Warriors? Do you think it's possible?" Corax asked in mild outrage.

I just glanced at Perturabo, who nodded hesitantly. "It will be very hard, Lord Lancefire."

So I took out Drach, and pointed the tip of the daemon lance at the failed Primarch. "I'm sure you remember Drach, since Abaddon used to hold it. You know what it can do. Your duty is very easy, Perturabo. Gather your wayward Legion and make them obey. Or else I will feed you to Drach Lancefire. Either way, I win."

Both Corax and Perturabo seemed quite perturbed at my new lance, although possibly for different reasons.

"How can you bear to touch that abomination?" Corax growled in disgust.

"The old daemon and I go back a long way, Corax. We killed quite a few Great Daemons in my youth." I answered with a careless shrug. It was mostly true, meaning a few Great Daemons.

"The daemon fears you?" Perturabo noted with a surprised voice.

"I mean, I did kill a few Chaos Gods already. This thing is decent, but not really on the same level. But maybe if it behaves, I will feed it more. I could use a pet Chaos God for myself." I said while petting the red-runes with a loving hand. Drach purred in my hand, likely hoping to eat Perturabo soon.

"I shall endeavour not to get eaten, Lord Lancefire. Good luck with the Necrons..." Perturabo muttered in a wary voice, then turned to leave.

The crow Primarch stayed for a minute more, while a dark cowl made of shadow crows gathered around him. "I will shadow my brother then?" he asked in a muted voice.

"Sure, do that as well. But, I would ask that you link up with my Obsidian Auguries and start tracing the Alpha Legion on this side. I believe Omegon is still alive somewhere. 99% certain, I would say." I ordered in a gentle tone.

Corax traced the daemon lance with some doubt in his eyes, then nodded. "I also have some debts to repay, Warmaster. My Raven Legion's gene-seed was ruined by them." he spoke with a vengeful voice, then vanished in his own shadow.

I just shook my head, and stored the dangerous daemon lance back in its blackstone coffin inside my bad tesseract.

'He called you Warmaster, Captain.' the Blade noted in my mind.

'I did hear that. Oh well, I'm sure it was just a slip of the tongue.' I answered with faint humor.

It was probably not a slip, to be fair. Just another twist in this twisted universe.