Alone, Lazarus refilled his glass. He reclined in his seat, by the starboard viewport. His empty eye sockets couldn’t see the stars outside, but that hardly matter, for Lazarus was looking inwards, at the gaping hole the psykers of Pyr had burned in his soul when the severed his connection to the God-Emperor.
They said they’d freed him, restored him. He didn’t feel restored, just… empty. They had taken from him something more precious than his eyes, something he hadn’t even known was there until it was gone. They said he was being used as a spy, a puppet. They didn’t, couldn’t understand the feeling of being a part of something greater by themselves.
And now he was tasked to destroy that very thing, to bring about the end of the Imperium of Man as it had stood for ten thousand years. The bolt pistol at his side was a reassuring weight. Solid. Tempting.
Lazarus took a long pull off the amber liquid, barely feeling the burn – even the taste muted and bland. He wondered if that was how the Necron lord on his dead world felt too, having abandoned the very things that defined his identity, his sense of self, when he became a machine. Unbidden, an image of Divis came to mind.
These Necrons were scary, unreadable, with only a cold void where a living mind should have been. And they wanted to bring their strange, hollow world to Holy Terra itself. “Keep your friends close… " well, maybe they did think a bit like humans after all. And at least they had a common enemy.
A Tyrannid Queen, now that would be a way to go, if he could take an ugly bitch like that with him… he’d have to check with Malcolm to get an extra pack of explosives. At least that would be straightforward, simple… unlike the road ahead if he survived.
For in that case, he’d have to take on the God-emperor and his ecclesiarchy, commit the greatest betrayal since the times of Horus, and yet at the same time also have to find a way to keep Abaddon the Despoiler and his 13th Black Crusade at bay. The task seemed impossible, and yet inaction would mean the Imperium and all of mankind were doomed, the light of the Emperor slowly fading against the forces of Chaos.
With the Emperor and his Astronomicon gone, the already superior demon-navigators employed by Chaos would have an almost insurmountable advantage. The Imperial Navy, those ships that weren’t lost in the Warp in the aftermath, would be effectively paralyzed, divided. The forces of Chaos, meanwhile, could strike anywhere they wished, still free to travel the warp and exit it with pinpoint accuracy…
Eh… maybe there was something there… an opportunity, certainly not something to dare hope about, but a possibility, if it was played just right. Lazarus started thinking on how to make it happen. Amazingly, the first step in the plan involved consuming rather unhealthy amounts of alcohol. So, with a grin across his ravaged face, he set on to the task.