A Business Proposition: Afterthoughts

“No.”

“Look, all I’m saying is–”

“I know what you’re saying and I’m saying it’s absolutely idiotic.”

“I’m not saying it would happen, just that it could.”

“And I’m saying you’re full of grox shit. Orks? Absolutely, we literally just saw that. Eldar? Sure, I guess. I mean, they’d probably opt to manipulate instead, but maybe it could happen. Dark Eldar? Totally, it just wouldn’t look pretty. At all. Chaos? I don’t know, maybe? I doubt they’d go out of their way, but they’re not ones to turn down free cannon fodder. But Necrons? Really? That’s where I draw the damn line. There is and will never be such a thing as a Necron Tau. Their whole Em Oh is just ‘shoot it until it dies and then shoot it some more’ for Emp’s sake.”

“You don’t remember that time we got stuck in that necron tomb during that dig site job?”

“You two faced a necron tomb?!”

“Less faced and more ran the Warp away while everyone else died and then ran some more. Now shut up, Guardsmen, can’t you see I’m in the middle of a heated debate with my associate here? Anyways, I absolutely remember that nightmare. I also remember green glowing automated skeletons shooting people until they died and then shooting them some more.”

“But what about Mike, huh?”

“...which one? Mike or Fat Mike?”

“Fat Mike”

“...New Fat Mike or Old Fat Mike?”

“Uhh... Old Fat Mike. Definitely Old.”

“That’s right! It was Old Fat Mike that they turned into a necron! What’d the dataslate call it again? Pariahs?”

“Yes, now shut up, Guardsman. Anyways, all I’m saying is there could be a tau pariah out there.”

“Nope. Dataslate said it only works on humans for some reason. Something about genes? Fuck if I remember.”

“But what if someone rigged it to work on tau?”

“And who’d have the time, tech, and resources to accomplish such a pointless feat?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe undying robot skeletons.”

“And WHY would they do it, exactly?”

“Warp if I know, why did orks take one in?”

“That’s not the same at all! Orks do all sorts of nonsense. Necrons all follow some sort of set plan. Every single one of them we bumped into reacted the same damn way. Orks, not so much.”

“I’m just saying, maybe. You never know.”

“Tell you what, we run into a necronized tau, I pay for drinks that night. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Good. Now with that nonsense settled, let’s grab some of that fungus beer before these Scraplootas leg it. Haven’t had any of that stuff since our Krumpus Bay days.”

“You drink greenskin sludge?!”

“For the last time... wait, what is your name, anyways?”

“It’s... it’s Michael, ma’am.”

“Yeesh, really? Well good luck with that one, Mike.”

“Try painting yourself blue. It worked for ‘Da Blue Grot’ over there.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to hedge your bets with a little Gork and Mork worship on the side, either. If the Big E can’t help, maybe the Big Greens can.”

“Emperor preserve me...”