The holofield activated by the Saim-Hann craftworld was completely ineffective at hiding from the Primarch's gaze.
His eyes locked tightly onto the Aeldar ark, and he issued rapid commands:
"Adjust coordinates to 9-8-5, starboard 3."
"…"
Under his command, the Throne of Shadow's Sovereignty continually corrected its course, tracking the ark's path without pause.
"Light lance, fire at 1-4-2, starboard 5."
The black void-born behemoth "spat out" a brilliant beam of light, forcing the red, serpent-like vessel to swerve in evasive maneuvers.
This was not rely a chase; it was a confrontation in the void between a Primarch and a Farseer leading a craftworld. A battle of insight against foresight.
Before the "Fall of the Aeldar," Aeldar arks were massive trade vessels capable of hosting self-sustaining communities of hundreds of Aeldar families. These communities would typically return to mainstream Aeldar civilization only three or four tis in a millennium.
After the Fall, the craftworlds beca sanctuaries for the remnants of the Aeldar race, and their sizes grew rapidly, now tens or even hundreds of tis their original scale.
Inside, they contained Webway portals linking them to each other and to millions of other planets.
Massive spaceports dotted the exterior of the craftworld, releasing fleets and flyers through the Webway.
Wind jetbike riders and Vyper skimr pilots gathered in clans.
Most Aeldar within a clan shared blood ties. They sared blood across their faces, drank from their kin's wrists, and siblings boarded the flyers together.
Jetbikes and skimrs launched from the colossal spaceports into the void, charging toward the Crown of Sovereignty.
Diana Pauline finally found her mont to shine. Until now, she had played a minor role in this engagent with the Aeldar craftworld.
The captain calmly directed the defense turrets, constructing an anti-air network.
The incoming red aircraft, like moths to a fla, were shredded by dense flak fire.
Every second, red flyers trailed flas like kites with cut strings, crashing down.
But Diana wasn't content with only a defense, she mobilized strike fighters and gunboats for a concentrated counterattack, like a heavy punch slamming into the Aeldar formation.
The Saim-Hann clans bore V-shaped or striped patterns as identifiers. The clan targeted by Diana had two interlinked diamonds as its symbol.
The riders piloted their elegant skimrs straight into the human fighter squadrons.
They aid their shuriken cannons at the "monkey" fighters, firing hunter nets that blanketed large areas, mockingly watching the foolish Mon-Keigh plow straight into their web of death.
The auxiliary strike fighters had no way to dodge, and didn't even try. The pilots shouted oaths to the Emperor and the Primarch, firing angry volleys at the alien skimrs.
The Aeldar pilots were shocked to discover that the humans didn't even attempt to evade the shuriken nets. They fought like cold, calculating machines.
The Vyper skimrs weaved gracefully, dodging with agility, but the sheer density of fire saturated entire sectors of space.
One clan rider piloted his craft with expert skill, dodging six cannon shells in rapid succession.
But he soon realized, his maneuvering space was dwindling. Shells and friendly skimrs alike hemd him in.
Sensing another shell incoming, he tensed his arm and yanked the controls, evading smoothly and elegantly, even in haste.
But the next shell had no appreciation for elegance. It crashed into the skimr, tearing it apart mid-arc. The wreckage exploded, indistinguishable from the debris of the "ugly Mon-keigh machines."
Thirty other red skimrs were similarly torn apart, their remains scattered across the cold void.
The Aeldar pilots realized that the price they paid in the first exchange was not so different from the mon-keigh they once scorned.
Their complex, sensitive emotions were overwheld by grief at the deaths of blood relatives, but also tinged with respect for the courage of the Mon-Keighs.
Barbaric and primitive their tactics may have been, but their bravery was admirable.
A second round of aerial combat erupted. Human fighters launched a barrage of covering fire while the Astartes struck from the flanks with surgical precision.
The Shadows of Order targeted the skimrs, unleashing ruthless, lethal blows on the weaving Aeldar craft.
The clan's war leader erged from the firestorm, consud by grief, his kin, his clan, nearly wiped out.
He forced himself to stay focused as the Mon-Keighs launched a new wave of attacks.
He dodged the incoming fire with grace, but sensed his kin falling behind him, swallowed by the cold tal rain.
Then he felt it; he had been locked on by four human gunships.
'No escape.'
The war leader and his elegant vehicle were torn apart by blazing shells.
Using a three-stage strategy, concentration of force, disruption of formation, then final execution, Diana annihilated four Saim-Hann clans in succession.
The Farseer realized that Saim-Hann's traditional lightning-fast air assault tactics had been completely and rcilessly countered.
The larger space battle was also deviating from the future he had foreseen.
Several of the enemy battleships possessed strange weapons mounted on their flanks.
These fired aether fields that shredded the holographic cloaking of Aeldar ships.
He had never encountered such bizarre weaponry, nor had he foreseen that Nareth's fleet would possess such advanced technology.
In all previous encounters in the Segntum Pacificus, no human ship had such cannons.
'Nareth's exclusive weapon technology!'
The Farseer's eyes filled with a terrifying vision, countless black battleships firing brilliant aether beams, exposing and destroying Saim-Hann's red ships.
He saw the craftworld breached, red-armored Aeldar lying dead in pools of their own blood.
The future the threads of fate showed him filled him with dread.
His ddling with Saim-Hann's fate had attracted a terrifying enemy.
The Farseer made a decisive choice: abandon the attack on Nareth, abandon the Vigilus System.
He would search once more through the threads of fate for a world where Saim-Hann could forge its future.
With bitterness, he gave the order: "Retreat!"
The Aeldar warships began regrouping with their craftworld.
Nareth imdiately noticed several ships approaching the ark and docking into its massive spaceport.
'They're trying to run!'
The Primarch would not let the Saim-Hann ark escape so easily. Despite their apparent success, the Eleventh Legion had paid a heavier price overall.
And so far, the Throne of Shadow's Sovereignity had not fully locked on to the craftworld.
The Primarch keenly realized this delay was due to how his orders had to pass through officers before reaching the crew, adding unnecessary lag.
The officers and crew had executed efficiently, but not fast enough to beat a Farseer's precognition.
The red Aeldar ark still slipped from his grasp.
To defeat Saim-Hann's craftworld, he needed to be faster, more lethal.
The Primarch's consciousness spread across the entire battleship.
...
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
[email protected]/DaoistJinzu
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