"Where did they find the courage to speak to the Aeldari like that?"
The Aeldari commander's first reaction to the Human Federation's declaration was not anger, but amusement.
Her fleet officers shared the same expression.
It felt as though adults had been challenged by unruly children.
"Teach them a lesson first."
With that order, the Aeldari warships opened fire.
Scarlet plasma shells, accelerated to near-light speed, rained down like a torrential storm. Each individual shot carried the destructive power to level an entire interstellar city.
Now, in such vast numbers, the bombardment blotted out the stars—dense enough to glass a habitable planet in a single salvo.
Though they spoke of "teaching a lesson," their actions went far beyond that. In Aeldari eyes, if an opponent could not even survive this level of firepower, then they weren't worth sparing.
Commander Colt's brow furrowed, but he was not surprised. He had long heard of the Aeldari's arrogance and cruelty. He had been ready for this from the moment he sent his reply.
The fleet's AI core roared into operation.
In mere fractions of a second, trillions of calculations were performed. Every trajectory was mapped, every danger anticipated.
The Federation ships maneuvered with precision, their thrusters firing in sharp bursts, shifting positions like warriors dancing effortlessly through a rain of arrows.
The plasma storm passed them by, each shot missing by hair's breadths.
Not a single Federation vessel was struck.
The Aeldari commander's expression hardened with surprise.
She knew that no ordinary pilot could have performed such maneuvers— not even trained psykers. And conventional ship AIs could never calculate and evade thousands of near-light-speed projectiles at once.
Her experience pointed to only two possibilities:
"Advanced cognitive-assist systems… or strong artificial intelligence?"
The first was a known technology—devices that accelerated a pilot's perceptions and reflexes many times over. Some Aeldari ships had them installed.
But such systems came with a cost. Extended use risked frying the user's brain. Even for the Aeldari, with their heightened sensitivity, the pain of a slow-cooking mind was unbearable. Hence, they were rarely employed in battle.
The second possibility was far more troubling. True AI. Strong Artificial Intelligence.
The Aeldari had encountered such things before. They had even created some themselves.
And they had destroyed them all.
In their countless millions of years, they had watched civilizations rise overnight thanks to strong AI—only to collapse just as swiftly, consumed by their creations.
Many times the Aeldari had debated whether to engage or contain these upstart empires. Inevitably, the matter resolved itself: the civilizations annihilated themselves before the Aeldari could intervene.
Without exception.
Not one survived.
Thus, the Aeldari abandoned such research entirely, channeling their focus into stable technologies and the power of the mind.
Progress was slower, yes. But safe. Reliable. Sustainable.
And over aeons, that steady path crowned them the undisputed masters of the galaxy.
Some rivals they had crushed head-on. Others had self-destructed in their own hubris—foolish enough to tamper with forces like time manipulation or causality, erasing themselves from existence.
Experience was the Aeldari's greatest inheritance. Their accumulated wisdom dwarfed the Human Federation's fledgling achievements.
Had it not been for the corrupting influence of Slaanesh, clouding their judgment and sapping their discipline, the Aeldari would have remained unchallenged rulers of the galaxy for eternity—perhaps even expanding far beyond.
And in that scenario, humanity would never have risen at all.
Even now, weakened as they were, the commander's instincts remained sharp. Her centuries of experience allowed her to quickly piece together the truth behind humanity's uncanny maneuvering.
She issued a curt command. Her fleet's Void Shields flared to life, absorbing the Federation's retaliatory fire without difficulty.
At her signal, a robed figure stepped forward onto the bridge.
He was taller than her, but his face was drawn, gaunt—like a man who had worked too many sleepless nights.
A Farseer. One of the Aeldari's seers, masters of prophecy.
The pallor in his features betrayed the toll of his art; delving too often into the warp weakened even the strongest psyker.
The commander's gaze did not waver.
"Find me their weakness."
The seer bowed deeply.
"As you command."
_____
T/N:
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