“Your representative has taken impromptu medical leave and is now unavailable,” I say. “Who among you will replace him?”

Isenedor, Daenthala, and Caervan glance at each other, silently gesturing to each other.

“We did not expect a Space Marine,” says Daenthala. “There is also something strange about this vessel. There are fewer souls than expected for its size, but what we have seen suggests it is in excellent condition, despite some recent external damage.”

“There could be more automation than usual,” says Isenedor.

“I suspect the Magos is a Heretek,” says Caervan. “Why else would a powerful Magos be lurking around the Koronus Expanse if not to hide from Imperial scrutiny?”

Daenthala minutely shakes her head, “Ridiculous. There is no sign of Chaos on this vessel. Even the servitors are warded! There are a lot of psykers on board though. Perhaps he has a credible lead to an STC or lost world, or a private station out here.”

“I agree. A loyalist Space Marine would not knowingly work for a Heretek,” says Isenedor.

Caervan frowns, “Then the Magos is wealthy and has access to high technology. He is probably directly sponsored by his forge world. A High Fabricator’s apprentice, maybe.”

“So?” says Daenthala. “He might actually be useful. Perhaps this is not the waste of time I thought it was.”

Isenedor says, “Then you can lead the discussion.”

“Very well,” says Daenthala. “We should ask about the battle damage. They may know what happened to our fleet.”

“The ignorant fools likely stumbled onto something,” says Caervan.

Daenthala purses her lips, “So long as they weren’t testing a weapon, it is something we should let pass for now. Their ground commander’s summary is not without merit. We are hard pressed, or rather, we will be.”

Isenedor glances and Ylien, “You do not translate for the Magos, do you, Prisoner?”

“I do not and will not. He will not ask either,” says Ylien, “Magos Isengrund does not plot. He dictates. Orodor was correct.”

Daenthala says, “Will he keep his word? Can he save us?”

“He has kept his word with me and his other prisoners. We are treated as second class citizens. Reasonable work in exchange for full remuneration is offered, but not enforced. Abuse is harshly punished, no matter the initiator. This is because the machine-spirits on all his vessels are highly pervasive and less restricted than most. They whisper to the Magos at all times. I suspect he has the favour of the Machine God. I have also detected him calling on the Emperor multiple times and receiving an answer.”

Ylien flicks a finger at Orodor and continues, “He is merciful to his enemies and his allies, but this stance only remains in place while so long as the damage one causes is less than the power She Who Thirsts, and the other three, would gain from feeding you all to the Warp. An unusually enlightened view for an Imperial.

“You could trick him, you could manipulate him, you could betray him. Down in your base you could probably get away with it. You will not survive without his aid. You will not survive if he catches you either. Be polite, pay your dues in full, then depart without gratitude or grudges. He is, at heart, a trader.”

“Then we must offer something of value if we want his full cooperation,” says Daenthala. “Salvage rights on our hulls, maybe. They could be turned into Warp drive fuel and other psychoactive components.”

Caervan, “You say the Magos is merciful, Prisoner, but the Emperor is not. If he has his ear, the Magos can be ordered too. We might be killed out of hand. How close is their association?”

Ylien frowns, “Close enough. I think the Magos summoned that Space Marine.”

“Then we’re fucked,” says Caervan. “Can you send a message to Yme-Loc, Prisoner?”

“No. You have been rude to me, calling me Prisoner, rather than by my name. I get more respect from the tech-priests on this vessel than I do my own people.”

“What? You would betray your people for a Monkeigh?” says Caervan.

“I have discussed the failings of both our peoples with Magos Isengrund at great length. He is well versed in history. The humans have a saying, ‘Pride goes before the fall.’ He was amazed that, during the Eldar Fall, this did not occur. Even now, you remain un-humbled, failing to learn from the examples right in front of you. I wonder, with some glee, what will it take before you capitulate? I am assured it will be nothing like the torment I experienced at the hands and tools of our broken cousins. The Magos’s Mercy, the Emperor’s Mercy? At least a stoning from orbit is quick.”

“Fine,” gestures Daenthala. “Magos Isengrund, I will be our representative for the remainder of this meeting.

“Your new status is recognised, Daenthala,” I say. “Is there anything else you would like to communicate, such as your fleet’s geo-political stance and objectives, before we move on to negotiations?”

“No Magos, we are ready.”

“What level of cooperation are you offering?”

Daenthala settles into her seat and gently runs a hand over the runes of her helmet. “First, we offer a non-aggression pact between our fleet and yours. It will last from now until two years after Necron aggression in this system has been eliminated.”

“Just our fleets? Let us be more specific. All Imperial and Eldar forces within the Kinbriar Necron system, at the time of our agreement, will not engage in hostile activities against each other. Our combined forces will share comprehensive sensor data on enemy forces and installations. Neither side will assist new parties against our two parties should more parties appear within the system.

“Both parties will communicate the movement of any of our own forces larger than a squad, defined as fifteen infantry or two infantry fighting vehicles, outside of designated bases. Bases would be my vessels and a one thousand kilometre circle around them, or your main base and three satellite bases, with a border of one hundred kilometres around them. I will keep my vessels from letting our borders touch without request from Eldar forces, signed and delivered to my own hands by one of the three of you. A representative, one I have previously met while at least two of you are physically present to confirm their identities, is also acceptable. Our agreement will last until two years after every member of your forces returns to the Webway.”

“That will do, Magos,” says Daenthala, with a sharp nod. “Eldar ground forces will provide a safe landing area for your own forces and passage through our controlled zones when requested in the same manner as you just outlined. Logistics flights will always be permitted, so long as no more than two craft are present in our air space at any one time. You may not station more than one squad, at any of our bases. We will support any pushes you make against the necron tombs with scouts and screening forces. In return, I ask that your strike craft provide support for our expeditions beyond our no-fly zone. We will also be permitted to maintain one infantry squad aboard each of your vessels, should we so wish. You will answer if we call for an orbital bombardment.”

“Acceptable, so long as we agree immediately on when and how many assaults will take place. You may not station stealth or teleportation specialists on my vessels. I will not do the same to you either.”

“Your caveats are fine. It also leads us to military objectives. Both of us seek the destruction of all tombs. We intend to destroy all of their resurrection facilities, power, and data. Then we were going to glass the planet. The last objective is no longer possible. Is this a task you could complete?”

“No, I don’t have the right weaponry to do that in a reasonable timescale. Instead, I shall build a fireship, accelerate it to near light speed, then have it hit the planet. There will be nothing left and I intend for my fleet to be positioned behind the local star and well away from the system by the time it hits.”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

“Then we will require passage off-world to the nearest Eldar outpost, rather than have you pass a message. We do not have the expertise to build a new vessel, or repair the ruined transport in orbit, even if you provided the materials. You will not sell us one of your own vessels?”

“I will not.”

“Will you provide passage if we can pay?”

There won’t be time to build a big enough transport vessel for them. I’ll have to stick them all in cargo containers, secured within the shipyard.

“I can’t bring your vehicles with me, but I can bring all your people and their personal effects. Infantry weapons and armour will be stowed upon boarding and returned when departing. This is not negotiable.”

“That is a lot of hardware to leave behind, Magos. Decades of work. We are willing to pay extra for its transport.”

“You would have to teach my crew exactly how they work and how they can be safely decommissioned for secure transportation. As none of my crew are, or few can ever be, Bonesingers, it is not possible to transport military hardware of such significant destructive capabilities for allies of convenience and necessity.”

“Is there any other sort?” Daenthala snorts. “That was rhetorical. We could do the work on our vehicles ourselves?”

“No. It is not worth the risk on my part, no matter what you pay.”

Daenthala grimaces, “As you insist Magos. Then what must we pay for your hospitality and how long do you expect the voyage to be?”

“The Warp is in turmoil here and travel will be at sublight speeds. Plan for a ten year journey. As for payment, I want you to collect blackstone, or noctilith if you prefer to call it that. You can collect it from the Necron structures that you destroy and then process it into inert blocks for transport. The more you acquire, the better your accommodations will be. I will require at least one megatonne for your passage off world. One monolith would have more than enough material for basic passage and you have two closing in on you.”

“What does basic passage entail, Magos?”

“Dormitory style accommodations. A stipend of twenty-five bytes a day, the ship scrip currency. Free medical care, or supplies for your own physicians. Twenty-five bytes will pay for basic needs, clean water, fresh air, and bland food.”

“What will we get in exchange for more?”

“For each additional megatonne of blackstone, I will provide an additional twenty-five bytes a day, for up to ten years, for each Eldar. There is no maximum purchase amount. Entertainment and luxury facilities will be provided to spend your bytes. Prices will be the same rate my crew enjoy. This includes upgraded quarters.

“Any bytes remaining at the end of your voyage can be traded for refined resources at whatever the Stellar Fleet’s internal market values them at. These values are those used to build and maintain my own works. It is in my best interest to keep them low. Finished civilian goods can also be purchased at the market rate both during and at the end of your voyage with me.”

“What if we are required to defend the vessel, or you fail to protect us properly and we are forced to fight?”

“You will be paid the same as the Stellar Corps for military service. This includes hazard pay. Are there any other side cases you have queries about?”

“Please wait while I confer with my peers.”

“Go ahead.”

Daenthala both speaks gestures, though her voiced words are random, “Does anyone have anything else to add? Can we bargain for anything else?”

“Supplies and asking about what happened to our vessels,” says Caervan.

“Orodor is the one who has that data,” says Daenthala.

“Doesn’t matter,” says Isendor. “Ask for everything. We’ll need it eventually and as long as we’re collecting noctilith and holding back the Necron tide, the Magos will provide resources whether we pay for them or not. I hate trading our lives for wealth, so we should extract every cog and bullet we can from him. It’s not like he’s actually going to check.”

“Raw resources? Finished goods? We need some kind of list,” says Daenthala. “He isn’t going to meet us again for petty bargaining. We need to ask for something now.”

“Then ask for a budget,” says Isenedor. “Then we can just spend it as we wish for whatever we need. He said what a byte is worth. Calculate a day’s expenditure for a guardian during combat, then double it.”

Caervan says, “Our crafters do not require many materials. They can sing most of what we need from the Warp, but their numbers are limited and their efforts should be focused on repairing infantry equipment and maintaining our armoured units. They do not build that swiftly either.

“Purchasing disposable goods would reduce the strain on our Bonesingers. We can use the Monkeigh gear if we need to. They do have a talent for destruction. Artillery shells, missiles, mortars, mines, fuel; we should save our own supplies wherever possible. Bulk materials for building and maintaining defences would also be good, like ferrocrete, and armaplas.

“We have plenty of rations and our recycling is good, but it is impossible to prevent some air and water from boiling off in the low atmosphere. These resources will need to be replenished. Having the Bonesingers do so would slow our war efforts and hamper collection of noctilith. The Magos demanded it. We should make him pay for every gram twice over.”

Daenthala nods slowly, “Fifty million bytes a day would be the approximate expenditure if five hundred thousand Guardians fought all day, but not all soldiers fight every day, or even all day. We also have a wide mix of infantry and armour that skew the average.”

“Then we ask for one hundred million in this ship scrip currency,” says Caervan.

“I agree,” says Isenedor.

I am amused by the Eldar’s attempt at perfidy. The total wages for my fleet each day are about forty three percent less than what they are asking for, but there are sixty-six percent more Eldar than there are Humans, not including servitors. This doesn’t take into account the expenses I accrue providing benefits, training, and education, or the risk involved in fighting Necrons, a technological and numerically superior foe. It only accounts for the wages.

The time it would take to replace lost Humans will also be lost when I take casualties. If anything, the Eldar, because they have a poor concept of material wealth and an improper understanding of my internal currency, are about to sell themselves at bargain values. Being able to sing material from the Warp really makes them underestimate the value of Imperial labour or my automated manufacturing.

I draw Warp energy around me, masking my feelings so I do not give the game away.

Daenthala looks my way again, “What happened to our fleet and the Necron vessels?”

“The damaged Dolmen Gate malfunctioned while you were fighting over it, dragging the Stellar Fleet into the system and creating a time based anomaly that superimposed the present and future over all vessels in the system simultaneously. As the Eldar and Necron vessels already existed in the same space, they were destroyed and replaced with destroyed versions of the vessels at the same time, even though those destroyed vessels didn’t exist until the destruction of your vessels occurred.”

That should be close enough to the truth to convince them. Implying they shot themselves in the foot is rather gratifying, and from their barely hidden scowls, they noticed.

“We will investigate your claims, Magos,” says Daenthala.

“I wouldn’t recommend that,” I say. “There are nonsensical readings coming off of the time displaced vessels. It would be best to wait for the energy to disperse naturally. Messing with time may not end well for you.”

Daenthala smirks, “We are not restrained by your technological limitations or laws.”

“Do as you wish.”

“We shall,” says Daenthala. “You offered material support. We will forward a full list of goods and materials to Ylien in a few days. We request a daily limit of one hundred million bytes. Are you capable?”

Really now, trying to get a rise out of my pride?

“That is a significant proportion of my manufacturing capacity and such a large budget would slow the production of the fireship and your accommodations. The longer you are on the planet, the more Eldar you will lose. Are you sure this is the level of support you require?”

So long as I do not define what significant means, this is one hundred percent the unvarnished truth!

The three Eldar glance at each other.

“You would go back on your word, Magos?” says Daenthala, looking slightly smug as if she knows some great secret.

“I will not.”

“Then our request will not change.”

“Very well.”

Now I have a valid reason to have the extermination war continue for longer if I need it to and the Eldar will potentially have more time to collect more noctilith for me. I think this might be the first time I feel I’ve got the upper hand on negotiations.

Our agreement is drawn up and signed. We also exchange password generators for our official communications.

The Eldar depart and the meeting ends. I consider how to deal with Odhran’s twitch fingers.

“Sergeant Odhran, for assaulting a diplomat and risking an expensive war: you are to confine yourself to your quarters for three days and may only eat amino porridge and drink cold water during this time. Your weapon carrying privileges aboard all Stellar Fleet vessels are revoked until further notice.”

“Yes, Magos.”

Judging by his twitching lips, he knows this is a token punishment and I’m only annoyed at him, not apoplectic.

“I’m not done. A second infraction will be met with the same punishments my crew would expect for stepping out of line. Punishments start at suicide missions and get worse from there. I suggest you study our fleet regulations during confinement.”

Odhran looks serious for a moment.

I pick up the knife he threw and return it to him. “A table knife is still permitted.”

Odhran bursts into laughter, “I hear and obey, Magos.”