Don't Touch My Boats

In the sterile laboratory aboard the Independence Sector Research vessel Innovation's Edge, three of the greatest minds in cybernetic and genetic research stood observing their latest breakthrough. Through the reinforced observation glass, an android that appeared perfectly human stood calmly, its eyes covered by an ornate blindfold inscribed with microscopic circuitry.

Belisarius Cawl's mechadendrites swayed in thought as he recorded his observations. "Fascinating. The localization of the null effect to the optical centers represents a 47.3% improvement in control compared to our previous attempts."

"BROTHER CAWL!" Magos Biceps Maximalis flexed his augmented arms, causing his red robes to strain against his massive frame. "THESE GAINS IN PARIAH CONTROL ARE MOST SWOLERIFIC! LIKE PROPERLY TIMING ONE'S PROTEIN INTAKE FOR MAXIMUM MUSCLE DEVELOPMENT!"

Dr. Elara Chen raised an eyebrow at her enthusiastic colleague while adjusting her dataslate. After working with him for months, she still found his unique manner of communication entertaining. "Magos Biceps, are you suggesting the null field propagation follows similar principles to metabolic timing?"

"INDEED, SISTER CHEN!" Biceps struck a pose that would have made ancient Terran bodybuilders proud. "JUST AS THE MUSCLES REQUIRE PROPER NUTRITION WINDOWS FOR MAXIMUM SWOLENESS, THE PARIAH FIELD REQUIRES PRECISE ACTIVATION PARAMETERS! PRAISE THE OMNISSIAH'S GAINS!"

Cawl's binary cant carried a hint of amusement as he translated for Chen. "I believe our colleague is drawing a parallel between biological enhancement timing and the null field propagation delays we observed in Test Series 17-Beta."

The android in the chamber removed its blindfold, and immediately the air seemed to thicken with invisible force. The monitoring devices registered the expanding null field as it radiated from the subject's eyes, eventually enveloping its entire form in an anti-warp corona.

"BEHOLD THE PUMP, FELLOW SEEKERS OF KNOWLEDGE!" Magos Biceps performed a perfect lateral pose. "LIKE THE SACRED BLOOD FLOW TO MIGHTY BICEPS, THE NULL FIELD FLOWS FROM ITS SOURCE WITH PERFECT FORM!"

Chen nodded, checking the readings. "The field propagation does follow a remarkably organic pattern. Perhaps we could optimize it further by studying natural Pariah field development in Sisters of Silence?"

"Your suggestion has merit, Dr. Chen," Cawl's vocoder clicked. "Though my future self's data cores have provided invaluable insights into the Primaris Project, the application to null field manipulation required... creative interpretation."

"BROTHER CAWL SPEAKS TRUTH WITH THE INTENSITY OF A PERFECT SET OF SQUATS!" Biceps began a series of mechanical flex poses that somehow managed to convey deep scientific understanding. "THE SACRED TEMPLATES OF THE FUTURE REQUIRED SPOTTING, JUST AS ALL GREATEST GAINS DO!"

Cawl's mechadendrites performed rapid calculations as he translated. "Magos Biceps suggests that like physical training, our modifications to the future templates required careful support and monitoring to achieve optimal results."

"Precisely," Chen agreed, hiding her smile. "The integration of the Pariah Gene into the android chassis was like training a new muscle group – we had to start light and gradually increase the load."

"AH! SISTER CHEN HAS ACHIEVED ENLIGHTENMENT!" Magos Biceps's voice boomed with joy as his servo-arms performed a flawless double biceps pose. "THE PATH TO SWOLENESS, WHETHER OF MIND, MACHINE, OR MUSCLE, REQUIRES PERFECT FORM!"

The android in the chamber reapplied its blindfold, and the null field receded like a tide. Cawl's internal cogitators whirred as he processed the data. "The control is remarkable. To think that my future self's work on the Primaris Project would lead to such innovations..."

"INDEED, BROTHER!" Biceps initiated what appeared to be a victory pose. "YOUR FUTURE GAINS HAVE SPOTTED OUR PRESENT GAINS! THE OMNISSIAH'S WISDOM FLOWS THROUGH TIME LIKE THE PERFECT PRE-WORKOUT FORMULA!"

Chen consulted her dataslate again. "The potential applications are significant. These androids could work seamlessly with psyker forces when needed, then activate their null field for anti-warp operations. The tactical flexibility alone—"

"TACTICAL FLEXIBILITY IS CRUCIAL!" Biceps interjected, demonstrating said flexibility with a series of impossible poses. "LIKE THE SACRED SUPER-SETS THAT BUILD BOTH STRENGTH AND ENDURANCE!"

Cawl translated once more, his tone carrying a hint of fondness. "Our colleague suggests that the versatility of these units mirrors the comprehensive benefits of properly structured training regimens. An apt metaphor, if unusually expressed."

The three tech-priests continued their observations, each bringing their unique perspective to the project. Cawl's future knowledge, Chen's innovative thinking, and Biceps's... unique way of viewing the universe through the lens of physical perfection combined to push the boundaries of what was possible.

As they watched the android perform another series of null field activation tests, Magos Biceps struck a final pose that somehow conveyed both scientific satisfaction and physical supremacy. "REMEMBER, FELLOW SEEKERS OF KNOWLEDGE: THE GAINS OF THE MIND SPOT THE GAINS OF THE BODY, AND THE OMNISSIAH SPOTS US ALL! NOW, WHO'S READY FOR POST-EXPERIMENT PROTEIN PRAYERS?"

The laboratory's warning klaxons screamed to life, bathing the chamber in crimson light. Through the observation windows, the void erupted with dark, blade-like ships appearing from nowhere, their weapons already firing with surgical precision.

"BY THE OMNISSIAH'S MOST SACRED DELTOIDS!" Magos Biceps's actuators whirred as he assumed a combat stance. "THESE DARK ELDAR WISH TO CHALLENGE OUR GAINS!"

Cawl's mechadendrites writhed in agitation as he watched his Ark Mechanicus, the Empiric Insight, split apart under concentrated dark matter fire. "Most unfortunate. Though perhaps..." his optical sensors gleamed with sudden calculation, "their biology would make for interesting servitor stock."

"Belisarius!" Dr. Chen shot him a horrified look while activating emergency protocols on her dataslate. "Though given their proclivities, maybe they deserve—" She shook her head, refocusing. "Independence Sector distress beacon activated. The Primarch's forces should respond quickly."

Through the armored viewport, they watched as Dark Eldar boarding craft latched onto the civilian cargo vessels like predatory insects. Magos Biceps's voice dropped to what passed for a whisper in his volume range, servos flexing. "OBSERVE, BROTHERS AND SISTERS IN SWOLENESS! THEY TARGET THE SUPPLY VESSELS FIRST, LIKE HERETICS STEALING PRE-WORKOUT SUPPLEMENTS!"

"Tactical assessment correct," Cawl nodded, dozens of mechadendrites already interfacing with defense systems. "Their raid pattern suggests they remain unaware of our primary research. The Pariah Project data remains secure."

The deck shuddered as another explosion rocked the ship. Dr. Chen's fingers flew across control panels, and throughout the vessel, the sounds of heavy metallic footsteps echoed. "Men of Iron defense protocols initiated. Delta-Seven formation."

"MOST EXCELLENT BACKUP ROUTINE, SISTER!" Magos Biceps activated his own command protocols, and the ship's corridors filled with sounds that caused even Cawl to pause his calculations. "MY SWOLE-PATTERN COMBAT AUTOMATA WILL SPOT OUR DEFENSIVE SETS!"

Through security feeds, they glimpsed Biceps's creations – monstrous amalgamations of muscle fiber and machine that would have given nightmares to veterans of Old Night. They moved with impossible grace for their bulk, taking up defensive positions alongside Chen's more conventional but no less lethal Men of Iron.

"The statistical probability of Close-quarters combat is increasing exponentially," Cawl announced, his own battle-automata deploying from hidden compartments. "I calculate approximately 7.3 minutes before our position is compromised."

The ship lurched violently, and through the viewport, they could see the familiar realspace starfield being replaced by the twisted geometries of the Webway. Dr. Chen's face paled. "They're dragging us in! Time to fall back to the Citadel?"

"INDEED! TACTICAL WITHDRAWAL TO REINFORCE OUR CORE POSITIONS!" Magos Biceps began herding them toward the armored doors, his frame somehow becoming even more imposing. "LIKE THE SACRED REST BETWEEN SETS, WE MUST CONSOLIDATE OUR GAINS!"

The three tech-priests hurried through corridors already filling with the sounds of distant combat. Cawl's automated sentries traded fire with shadows that moved too fast to track. Biceps's monstrosities roared challenges that shook dust from the ceiling. Chen's Men of Iron maintained disciplined firing lanes with mechanical precision.

As they reached the Citadel's reinforced doors, Cawl's auspex pinged in alarm. "They're beginning molecular disassembly of the outer hull. Most concerning."

"The Primarch will come," Chen stated with conviction as she initiated the Citadel's lockdown. "The Independence Sector doesn't abandon its own."

"BROTHER FRANKLIN'S GAINS ARE INDEED LEGENDARY!" Magos Biceps helped secure the final barriers, his voice carrying over the sounds of battle outside. "BUT UNTIL HIS ARRIVAL, WE MUST MAINTAIN MAXIMUM DEFENSIVE INTENSITY! LIKE HOLDING THE PERFECT PLANK POSITION!"

The Citadel sealed around them, layers of void-hardened ceramite and energy fields securing their position. Through the internal vox, they could hear their automated defenders engaging the raiders. It would buy them time, but against Dark Eldar raiders, time had a way of becoming a cruel joke.

Cawl interfaced with the remaining ship systems. "I have initiated randomized power fluctuations. It may confuse their auspex readings temporarily."

"And the research data?" Chen asked, checking the status of her remaining Men of Iron.

"Secured and encrypted," Cawl assured her. "Multiple redundancies. Even if they take us, they won't understand what they've found."

-------------------------------

The war room aboard Sweet Liberty hummed with barely contained energy. The massive hololithic display dominated the center, showing the carefully gathered intelligence on their target - a younger, more vulnerable Commorragh. Around the tactical table stood the greatest leaders of the Independence Sector, their expressions grim yet determined.

Franklin, towering even among his sons, traced a finger along the projected trade routes. "Gentlemen, our quarterly profits are down 37%. The Dark Eldar think they can treat our shipping lanes like their personal shopping mall." He paused, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "I'm about to teach them about corporate hostile takeovers."

Denzel Washington reported "My Primarch, the technical losses are even more severe than initial reports suggested. The raid that took Cawl and his team wasn't just about cargo - they've captured over thirty ships filled with our best technicians and engineers."

"Not to mention the Pariah Project data," Steven Armstrong added, his nanomachine-enhanced frame tensing. "If they decode that research..."

"They won't have time," Franklin declared, activating a new hologram - the massive Dolmen Gate they'd constructed. "Henry, your future intel confirmed this is the optimal time to strike?"

Captain Henry Cavill nodded "Yes, my lord. The Dark City is still in its relative infancy. Their current defense grid is barely a quarter of what it becomes in my timeline. Most importantly," he manipulated the display, highlighting several sectors, "they haven't yet developed their solar-harvesting arrays. Their power generation is limited."

Vladimir Mendelev, the Chief Librarian, frowned as he studied the tactical overlay. "The psychic implications of entering the Webway en masse are concerning. Even with our Techno-Seers' protection—"

"That's where our new toys come in," Samuel L. Jaxsen interrupted, his Primaris frame adorned with CIA iconography. "The reverse-engineered Necron tech isn't just for show. The Dolmen Gate stabilizes the surrounding Webway structure temporarily. Sweet Liberty's passage won't cause the usual psychic turbulence."

John Ezra's Secret Service agents were already distributing detailed operation packets. "We've identified three primary targets: their shipyards, slave markets, and power distribution hubs. Hit these simultaneously, and their ability to maintain void shields drops to critical levels."

Franklin nodded, then turned to address each commander in turn. "Denzel, you'll lead the First Company in a direct assault on their primary shipyards. I want those raiders grounded permanently."

"Consider it done, sir. We'll introduce them to Freedom-pattern boarding actions."

"Armstrong, take the Second, Fifth through Eighth Companies and secure their power distribution network. Without shields, they'll be exposed to Sweet Liberty's main batteries."

Armstrong cracked his knuckles with a grin. "Making the mother of all power outages here, lord. Can't fret over every xenos."

"Vladimir, your Techno-Seers will coordinate with the Liberty Guard. I want those slave markets cleared and our people extracted safely."

"Jaxsen," Franklin turned to the Primaris officer, "consider this your probationary assignment for Primeborn Status. CIA teams will infiltrate ahead of the main assault. Plant the beacons, mark the priority targets."

"With pleasure, sir. Time to show these shady-ass Dark Eldar what real shadows are all about."

"Henry, you'll coordinate from Sweet Liberty's bridge. Your future knowledge of their tactics could be vital."

"Understanding their strategies before they even develop them - a significant advantage, my lord."

Franklin stood to his full height, his presence filling the chamber. "The Dark Eldar think they're predators. Time to show them what happens when they hunt things that hunt back. Sweet Liberty alone has enough firepower to level their fledgling port. With Battlefleet Liberty backing us up?" He smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant expression. "Let's show them how we deal with pirates in the Independence Sector."

Denzel raised an important point. "The Webway assault carries risks. If they manage to seal the passages behind us..."

"Already accounted for," Henry interjected. "The Dolmen Gate creates stable corridors. They can't close instantly what we're holding open with Necron tech Temporarily."

"Besides," Franklin added, "I'm counting on them trying to trap us. The more they commit to stopping our escape, the fewer forces they'll have protecting their vital infrastructure." He activated a final tactical overlay. "700,000 Astartes. 50 million Liberty Guard. The largest fleet ever assembled by the Independence Sector. By the time we're done, the Dark Eldar will learn a very expensive lesson about interfering with free trade."

"And Cawl's team?" Armstrong asked. "The Pariah Project..."

"Priority extraction target," Franklin confirmed.

The air shimmered with psychic resonance as an Aeldari delegation materialized, their wraithbone armor gleaming under the chamber's lights. At their head stood a Spiritseer, her ethereal presence commanding attention, flanked by representatives from various Craftworlds in their resplendent regalia.

The Spiritseer stepped forward, her voice carrying both physically and psychically. "Franklin Valorian, the Phoenix Lords bid you attend them in—"

'What absolute garbage,' Khaine's voice thundered in Franklin's mind, burning with divine indignation. 'These strutting peacocks dare summon my champion like some common servant? Show them their place, Primarch.'

Franklin's smirk stopped the Spiritseer mid-sentence. The temperature in the chamber rose perceptibly as Khaine's influence radiated through his chosen champion. Denzel Washington's hand instinctively moved to his sword hilt, while Armstrong's nanomachines rippled beneath his skin in anticipation.

"Interesting timing," Franklin drawled, lounging back in his command throne with deliberate casualness. "Here I am, about to launch the largest punitive expedition since the Great Crusade began, and suddenly the Phoenix Lords remember I exist."

The Spiritseer's mask couldn't hide her affronted expression. "You misunderstand, mon-keigh. This is a great honor. The Phoenix Lords themselves—"

"The Phoenix Lords," Franklin interrupted, rising to his full height, towering over the Aeldari delegation, "are not Khaine. They are echoes, memories, fragments of what was. I carry his burning soul, his unbound fury." Anaris at his hip pulsed with crimson energy, responding to his words.

One of the other Aeldari, bearing the colors of Biel-Tan, stepped forward. "You overstep, human. The Phoenix Lords are the living avatars of Khaine's aspects, his—"

'ENOUGH!' Khaine's rage flooded through Franklin, and for a moment, his form shimmered with divine fire. The Aeldari delegation took an involuntary step back as Franklin's eyes blazed with literal godfire.

"Let me be crystal clear," Franklin's voice carried the dual timbre of both Primarch and God of War. "I am not some wandering aspect warrior to be summoned at your convenience. I am Khaine's champion, chosen by the God of War himself, not by committee or tradition."

He gestured to the tactical displays showing Commorragh. "While you've hidden in your Craftworlds, these dark kin of yours have raided my people, stolen my ships, captured my researchers. And where were the mighty Phoenix Lords then? Where was their intervention when the Dark Eldar's actions threatened to destabilize an entire sector of human space?"

The Spiritseer attempted to regain control of the conversation. "The Phoenix Lords do not involve themselves in mere mortal—"

"Exactly," Franklin cut her off again. "They don't involve themselves. They preserve, they maintain, they cling to what was. But Khaine?" He smiled, and there was nothing human in that expression. "Khaine acts. Khaine strikes. Khaine burns away corruption and weakness."

He stepped closer to the delegation, each footfall echoing with unnatural weight. "So here is my response to your 'summons': If the Phoenix Lords wish to witness Khaine's champion in action, they can meet me in Commorragh. They can watch as I demonstrate what true divine warfare looks like. They can observe as I turn that dark port into a lesson that will echo through the Webway for millennia."

'Well said,' Khaine's approval burned like a forge in his mind. 'Let them learn that true power needs no validation from lesser beings.'

The Biel-Tan representative's voice shook with barely contained outrage. "You dare reject the Phoenix Lords' invitation? This is unprecedented!"

"I dare much more than that," Franklin replied. "I reject their authority over me entirely. I am not some aspect warrior to be schooled in their temples. I am Khaine's burning sword, his wrath made manifest." He turned to Denzel. "First Captain, please escort our guests out. They have battle preparations to observe... from a safe distance."

As Denzel moved to comply, Franklin delivered his final pronouncement: "To the Phoenix Lords who call themselves facets of Khaine: I do not answer to mortals, however esteemed, for I carry Khaine's will in full measure. If you wish to test me, you will do so on my terms—not in the halls of your Craftworld, but on the battlefield, where Khaine's fire burns hottest. I have chosen the staging ground: the dark port-city your kind dare not speak of. Commorragh will burn under my wrath, and if you wish to witness Khaine's champion, you will meet me there."

The Spiritseer's mask finally cracked with emotion. "This... this insolence will not be forgotten."

"Good," Franklin replied, already turning back to his war council. "Neither will the lesson that comes with it. Denzel, show them out. We have a raid to launch."

As the Aeldari delegation was escorted from the chamber, their dignity in tatters, the war room erupted in suppressed grins and knowing looks. The message had been sent: the Liberty Eagles answered to no one but their Primarch, and their Primarch answered only to himself, Khaine and the Emperor.

'They needed that reminder,' Khaine mused in Franklin's mind. 'The Aeldari have always confused age with wisdom, tradition with right, teach them'

Franklin gazed at the tactical display of Commorragh once more, a predatory smile playing across his features. "Oh, I intend to. Class is definitely in session."

The Primarch surveyed his commanders one final time. "They touched my boats. Worse, they took my people. Everything we do in the Independence Sector, we do big. So let's show Commorragh what happens when they raid the wrong sector. Dismissed."

The Dolmen Gate activated, its impossible size dwarfing even the mighty Sweet Liberty. As Battlefleet Liberty moved into formation, Franklin gave the order that would launch one of the most ambitious retribution campaigns in Imperial history.

"All ships, battle stations. The Dark Aeldar have Oil, let's go give them some Freedom."