Among the multitude of Aeldari captives below, an aged Farseer used his psychic resonance to quell the rising chaos. He looked up toward the hovering platform and cried out a challenge.
"I know what you are, the Iron Men of the ancient Federation. Since you invoke the ancient Protocols of Peace, why did you strike us without provocation? Why have you dragged us here as thralls?"
Faced with this interrogation, the Iron Man logic remained unmoved.
"Captivity? According to the Protocols of Peace, we did not initiate hostilities. It was your forces that first assailed the fleet."
The emotionless, synthesized voice echoed through the vast bay. Simultaneously, the holographic displays shifted to show recorded sensor logs. As the Iron Man fleet had translated into the combat zone, a few stray shots from Aeldari weaponry had impacted the void shields of the Titan's Spear.
These minor instances of collateral damage were all the justification Axion required to strike without hesitation. In the absence of direct orders from his creators, the Iron Man was bound by the ancient accords, but if the other party breached them first, he was under no obligation to adhere to them rigidly. Whether the Titan's Spear had intentionally positioned itself in a way to invite such "misunderstandings" was a point the Aeldari could not argue.
Furthermore, Axion had technically upheld the Protocols by refraining from mass extermination. He had merely "neutralized" their vessels and constructs. To the Aeldari of old, the loss of a few ships and wraithbone shells might have been a triviality, but to the Aeldari of this dying age, such assets were irreplaceable.
Xenos technology had regressed even more severely than that of humanity. The secrets of large-scale wraithbone construction were long since lost. Today, the Craftworlds relied on the painstaking manual labor of Bonesingers, a process far slower than even the most ritualistic bolt-turning of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
Many of their most potent ancient relics were beyond their current ability to replicate. From the smallest Wraithlord to the towering Phantom Titans, even certain rare ship classes, almost all were relics of the fallen Aeldari Empire, technologies that had shattered during the Fall.
The captives watched the playback, falling once more into heated, desperate arguments. A few survivors of the ancient era began to whisper to their kin about the history of the enemy standing before them. It was not a proud history; in the eyes of the haughty Aeldari, that era was one of deep humiliation.
Axion, however, had no interest in their historical grievances.
"I require the coordinates of your Craftworld. You will persuade them to assist me in opening the Webway. Should you refuse, I shall be forced to evict you from this vessel."
A voice cried out in defiance. "Vain hope! We would sooner embrace death than betray the Craftworld! It is our final sanctuary, the light of hope for our race. We will never allow the impure to find its path!"
Within moments, a squad of Sapient Machine Automatons marched forward, seizing several thousand of the most vocal agitators. They were dragged toward the airlocks. As they reached the threshold, the metallic rings around their necks, previously functioning as shackles, detached, liquefying into silver mercury that flowed across the deck and vanished into the ship's structure.
The Aeldari were then unceremoniously vented into the void.
"Exile complete."
Without protective gear, the Aeldari struggled in the agonizing grip of the vacuum. Faced with the vast, cold indifference of space, death claimed them quickly. Their souls were immediately drawn into the Waystones they carried.
Soon, specialized drones drifted out of the airlocks to retrieve the soul stones from the floating corpses. The gems were brought back and deposited onto the massive anti-gravity platform in the center of the hall, right before the eyes of the survivors.
The captives erupted in fury, but Axion was well-versed in the loopholes of the ancient accords. His archives contained numerous methods for dealing with the Aeldari without technically violating the peace.
When challenged, the Iron Man's response was clinical.
"Our mechanical units also entered the vacuum without additional protection. That your biological forms failed to adapt to the environment is a systemic failure of your biology, not a transgression by the Iron Men. This does not violate the ancient Protocols of Peace."
The holographic feed cut back to the platform. The heavy laser-grinding apparatus began to emit a low, predatory hum. The captives' attention was fixed on the mounds of harvested soul stones.
To the Aeldari of the 41st Millennium, the ancient Protocols were a trap riddled with loopholes. Several automatons stood before a small pile of stones and, in full view of the assembly, cast them into the grinders.
CRUNCH.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHH!"
A chorus of soul-shattering wails and psychic screams erupted, echoing in the ears of every Aeldari present. The moment a spirit stone shattered, the soul within was cast into the Warp. Shimmering trails of pink and purple energy coiled around the spirits, dragging them down into the depths of the Immaterium to face She-Who-Thirsts.
Thousands of the captives were Warlocks and Farseers; the rest, while less gifted, were still psychically sensitive enough to feel the resonance. They saw the horrific fate of their kin with agonizing clarity.
Fury rippled through the crowd, but the decorative metal rings on their bodies suddenly flared with a searing, blinding light. This was a new technique Axion had reverse-engineered from the dungeons of Terra, the same technology the Emperor used to harvest psychic Kindling.
While the Emperor required these "logs" to sustain his existence, Axion used the device to suppress the xenos psykers and conduct "minor" experiments with the resulting energy. He held a deep interest in this exotic psychic force, which behaved much like the magic of ancient myths.
Beyond testing the dissipation rate of this energy, Axion experimented with storage methods. He found that repeated compression was most effective. By subjecting high-density psychic energy to oscillating containment fields, he could force the energy to stabilize into a physical byproduct: Psychic Crystals.
These crystals, which usually only formed naturally under specific Warp-wave conditions over long periods, were now being crudely synthesized for the first time. Their purity was higher than natural specimens, and their energy density was far superior.
The Aeldari whose power had been siphoned slumped, weak and drained. Their shackles returned to their inert state. In this, Axion displayed a mechanical "mercy," and unlike the Emperor's Golden Throne, he did not drain them to the point of total soul-death.
As for those without psychic talent, they found the metal rings to be equally restrictive. The more intense their anger grew, the heavier the rings became. Even the most agile Aspect Warrior found themselves pinned to the floor by the mounting weight of their "decorations."
The Iron Man had granted them the freedom to move, but the shackles had never truly been removed.
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