THE ARROGANCE OF BEAUTY

And that was what appalled him most.

Taltoc didn’t mind terribly that he would be destroying members of the lesser races as the Necrontyr empire was established once more across a billion stars. He did not mind that he would personally be responsible for hundreds of deaths as he marched along a path of vengeance with his fellow Necrontyr. He didn’t even mind that the death he would be dealing so casually would be a most painful and hideous death.

No, none of these things bothered him. It was the beauty of it all that bothered him.

The curves of the weapon, the glow of the crystal, the glyphs scribed on its silver surface. They were all so lovely, and yet so wrong.

Why?

The memories. The beauty brought with it memories of another time, a time when the Necrontyr needed no metal bodies, when they could walk through their thriving cities and talk among each other with no need for mechanical voice synthesizers. The Necrontyr were a race that placed much value in appearances. Many of their rituals and cultural structures were based on appearances. No single person or object could look less than wonderful. Their cities were like paradises in the stars; the pyramids would glow with a radiant energy that could almost light the cities surrounding them with their light. Even the instruments of war were awesome sights.

Now the people of the Necrontyr race were confined to metal bodies shaped in the form of death, and their pyramids had become temporary tombs.

What had caused this?

It was the Plague. The Necrontyr saw it as a minor problem. They knew how to survive. They would lock themselves away for a few millions years and then return once the danger was no longer present. And the lesser races? Well, it certainly mattered little whether they survived or not. The people must live on, their culture preserved for all time in immortality.

It was this arrogance that had destroyed the Necrontyr’s splendor. They believed they could cheat death. Instead they became death.

Taltoc’s thoughts were shattered in an instant as his Lord, Apocl, stepped briefly into the room. "It is time," Apocl said, and then walked from the room, moving quickly to summon the other Necrontyr.

Taltoc, disturbed by what he had been contemplating just minutes ago, stood up, rifle in hand. With a bit of reluctance, he plugged the rifle’s energy cable into the side of his torso. He hefted the rifle, feeling its weight in his hands.

A voice whispered in the back of his mind. The Empire must go on.