Surrounded by a phalanx of gargantuan mechanical warships, the Aeldari escort craft, ornate and vibrant as a festival float, slipped slowly into the heart of the Iron Men fleet.
The colossal Titan's Spear deployed a massive internal docking bay structure. Vivid holographic projections flickered in the void, casting guiding beams that ushered the Troupe's escort into the maw of the ship. The Troupe Master, leading a full ensemble, brought the vessel to berth without a hint of hesitation.
Many of the performers crowded around the escort's viewports, peering out with unconcealed curiosity at the cyclopean mechanical vessel. The scale of the Titan's Spear was breathtaking, rivaling even the Craftworlds of the Aeldari. Yet, its stark mechanical composition and aesthetic, entirely alien to Aeldari sensibilities, were a source of profound wonder for these younger eldar.
The escort, a mere kilometer in length, docked with ease inside the vast interior of the Titan's Spear. As the Troupe leaped down from their craft, the Troupe Master issued a singular, specific command for the first time:
"Do not wander aimlessly within this leviathan. Follow every directive given. Do not disrupt the weaves of the Great Laughing God's design."
After traversing a long, sprawling corridor, the Titan's Spear received its first true guests. At the passage's terminus, a group of automatons greeted them in an archaic dialect of the Aeldari tongue, escorting the entire Troupe into a hall spanning thousands of square meters. The space was cavernous, its ceiling soaring dozens of meters high, though the area remained a stark, empty expanse of monolithic metal flooring.
Upon the Troupe's arrival, the leading automaton turned toward the Troupe Master.
"Guests of the Aeldari, you shall reside here for the duration. Notification will be provided once the fleet has returned to the designated sector."
"The biological signatures of all personnel have been logged, and basic access privileges granted. You are permitted movement within all non-restricted zones. Should you require guidance, query any mechanical unit encountered."
The Troupe members were visibly startled by the sheer degree of latitude granted to them, mere xenos, by their hosts. However, the scene that followed struck them utterly dumbfounded.
The metal floor of the hall began to churn like earth yielding to a spring. A silver fluid surged and billowed, and then, as if summoned by teleportation, an Aeldari-style township began to rise from the ground. A Shadowseer stepped forward boldly, reaching out to touch an area that had not yet fully formed; she confirmed it was no illusion. Focusing her psychic sight, she found her vision blocked by the sudden manifestation of physical matter. More strangely, the architecture possessed a haunting quality that felt intimately familiar to all present.
A figure clad in a kaleidoscope of clashing, flamboyant colors stepped forward. He was the High Avatar, the King of the Troupe, the undisputed lead and master of this phantasmagorical cosmic circus. The High Avatar reached out to stroke a newly emerged structure; the milky-white material felt warm and smooth to the touch, with faint traces of psychic energy thrumming within.
"Wraithbone?!"
To the Aeldari, wraithbone was the foundational building block of their civilization, yet since the fall of their worlds, such architecture existed almost exclusively in myth. The Craftworlds themselves were wrought of it, and as for the dark city of Commorragh... that was a place the Harlequins held in little regard. It had its "amusements," but it did not suit their soul.
They had always believed that only a Bonesinger could shape wraithbone. Now, the Iron Men had achieved the same feat before their very eyes.
What they did not know was that the Iron Men had not conjured this material from the Warp. Instead, it had been extracted from the Aeldari ships the Iron Men had pulverized in the previous engagement. Nanite swarms had devoured those vessels, reducing them to wraithbone dust to be stored as raw material. Now, it was simply being repurposed to host the Troupe.
Gazing upon the ivory structures, the interlaced ornate filigree, and the glittering gemstone decorations, many Troupe members felt an inexplicable surge of sorrow. A few even began to weep softly.
Axion, however, could not comprehend their racial sentimentality. This township was a data-reconstruction Axion had pulled from ancient Iron Men war records. It was merely an insignificant Aeldari settlement from one of the countless worlds destroyed during the conflicts of the Federation era.
When decorations and foodstuffs, items known only to ancient archives, began to manifest within the houses, the shock to the Aeldari reached a crescendo. With the data-replication complete, the automatons bowed slightly to the Troupe before slowly departing. The town and its replicated supplies were more than sufficient for the Troupe's needs.
Shaking off their awe of the Iron Men, the Troupe officially took up residence.
Only a few layers of reinforced hull plating away lay the super-hall containing the hundreds of thousands of Aeldari captives. Now that a partner for cooperation had been selected, these prisoners had lost their primary strategic value. However, Axion had no intention of releasing them; the Iron Men did not lack the organic matter required for nutrient paste, and research into Psychic Crystals was ongoing. These "biological batteries" would remain in use for some time.
As abruptly as it had entered the fray, the massive mechanical fleet vanished from realspace, plunging back into the void as it made a direct transit toward Segmentum Solar.
During the long voyage through the Warp, the Troupe members quickly learned the boundaries of their freedom. Beyond their designated township, vast sections of the ship's interior were open to them. Yet, aside from the constant hum of machinery and logic-engines, there was no breath of life to be found.
It was only when they accidentally stumbled into the gargantuan hold containing the Aeldari captives that they found their first true diversion. Bored, the Troupe began to perform their plays in the hall every day, even debuting their latest work. The performance depicted their ambush by the Iron Men, the subsequent summoning of Slaaneshi daemons, and the climactic explosion that had torn a breach in Slaanesh's own lair.
The Solitaire playing the role of Slaanesh would perform a daily display of agonizing despair and wailing lamentation. The captives, provided with food, water, and entertainment, watched the performance repeatedly. Eventually, some realized that the breach might have been the handiwork of these Iron Men. If the lives of hundreds of thousands of Aeldari could deal a blow to She Who Thirsts, then perhaps dying here was a price worth paying.
Axion cared little for how the Aeldari amused themselves. So long as psychic energy could be siphoned regularly, they could do as they pleased. This was a spectacle that would have been rare even in the Federation era.
The test results for the Psychic Crystals were fascinating; their properties seemed entirely homologous with Warp-based abilities. However, materials infused with psychic energy possessed a unique stability. Unlike materials birthed from the Warp, which distorted physical laws, psychic energy caused permanent physical alterations even after the energy dissipated. Furthermore, these materials could regain their unique effects once recharged.
Beyond this, Axion experimented with using Psychic Crystals as power sources for various modules. They proved compatible with almost any device, a highly efficient, universal energy source. Moreover, they exhibited an unexpected lethality against Warp-entities, such as daemons and spirit-forms.
Reviewing the data, Axion contemplated whether he should ask Guilliman where to find those "Alpha-plus Psykers" mentioned in the Imperial archives. Perhaps a few glittering psychic batteries could be used to forge something akin to a psychic grand cannon.
After all, when the Federation first began its exploration of the Warp, it had struggled with the "indestructible" nature of these energy-entities. Perhaps replacing weapon power cores with psychic crystals, or even live psychic batteries, could finally solve that problem.