Disclaimer: I own neither Code Geass nor Warhammer 40k.
Chapter Sixteen: The Calm
Dome of the Crystal Seers, Craftworld Altansar
003.M41
Farseer Rellaol's footsteps echoed through the empty corridors of Altansar's core. The psychic energies of the wraithbone walls manifested themselves as a quiet hum growing steadily louder in the back of the Farseer's mind. Two Wraithlords, each sitting on a throne built into the wall and with their massive wraithblades resting at their feet, flanked the doorway at the corridor's end. Their blank, oblong heads tracked Rellaol's approach, but they otherwise made no movements. The wraithbone portal quietly slid open, allowing Rellaol passage into the Dome before sliding closed again.
The Farseer paused after taking a step inside the Dome of the Crystal Seers and closed his eyes. The souls of a thousand impossibly-ancient Farseers swirled around him, their voices whispering long-forgotten words of wisdom into his mind. He opened his eyes and scanned the enormous groves of crystalline trees, each extending all the way to the Craftworld's exterior. Rellaol blinked and turned slightly to face the ring of crystal statues at the Dome's center. On a day far into the future, he would join the ranks of the Crystal Seers, his body forever preserved in crystal and his soul given to the Infinity Circuit, guiding future generations of Farseers.
As of now, however, the Farseer's troubles lay firmly in the present. Dark bags hung under Rellaol's eyes, the evidence of many restless nights. Every time he closed his eyes, dreams tormented him. A robed woman, a malformed trident, and, most disturbing of all, a great war fought in a system with a yellow star. Perhaps they were mere nightmares, perhaps they were prophetic visions. Others on the Path of the Seer were no help, and the other members of the Farseer Council eventually advised Rellaol to seek the Crystal Seers' wisdom.
As Rellaol approached the great gathering of Crystal Seers, he realized he wasn't the first one there. A robed figure knelt in the middle of the circle, seemingly oblivious to his presence. The Farseer psychically notified the nearby Aspect Shrines—as impressive as the Wraithlords outside were, they were primarily meant to keep intruders from entering the Dome in the first place and were unable to fit through the doorway, even if bowed—and cautiously approached the figure.
"Hello, Farseer Rellaol," the figure suddenly addressed him, causing him to stop in his tracks.
"Who are you?" Rellaol demanded.
The figure slowly stood up, allowing the Farseer a better look at the intruder. The robes were plain and nondescript, but obviously of high quality. Rellaol noted, to no small amount of alarm, that a simple but elegant blade lay by the intruder's feet. He tensed up, gripping his staff a little tighter.
"Calm down. If I had meant you or anyone else harm, I would not have allowed you to find me here," the figure remarked while slowly turning around.
The first thing that Rellaol noticed was the intruder's eyes: in all of his years, he had never seen anything resembling their particular shade of gold. Long green hair framed a distinctly feminine face, with a red tattoo peeking out between her bangs. She possessed a delicate but sharp beauty fitting of an Eldar maiden, but her features were just a bit too rounded to be Eldar. Rellaol stepped back in shock as he recognized the woman in his dreams.
"What do you want?" Rellaol demanded once he regained his composure.
The Farseer mentally relaxed as he sensed the wraithbone doors cycling open. Silent footsteps made their way around the Dome's perimeter. All he needed to do now was to keep her talking.
"I have come to deliver a message," the woman answered, "It would be in your best interest to listen to it."
"And what might that message be?" Rellaol asked, his features calm and smoothly arrogant as he sensed the requested reinforcements moving in.
"Are those Howlings Banshees going to attack me, or are they just here to watch?"
Rellaol recoiled in shock as, their cover blown, a trio of Howling Banshees burst from the trees. As some of the Eldar's deadliest Aspect Warriors closed in, the woman calmly stood her ground, not even making a move towards her sword.
The first Banshee lunged forward, sword aimed at the intruder's face. Even with his heightened senses, Rellaol couldn't tell when the woman had moved, only that she did and then deflected the blow aside with her bare hands. A swift blow to the throat turned the Aspect Warrior's devastating sonic screech into a series of gurgling noises. With surprising speed, the green-haired woman threw an arm across the Banshee's upper torso and threw her to the ground as the remaining two warriors closed in. The intruder grabbed the second Banshee's sword arm as she lunged, forcing it upwards before she sent the Eldar warrior flying with a palm strike. She ducked under the third Banshee's swipe, and then staggered her with a series of lightning-fast jabs to the stomach. The final Banshee collapsed following a vicious neck chop.
"They're not dead, if that's what you're afraid of," the woman casually remarked as she turned towards Rellaol.
A voice deep in the Farseer's mind told him that it could have gone very differently had the intruder decided.
"What is the message you were sent to deliver?" Rellaol asked once again, significantly more politely this time but while still gripping his staff tightly.
"It concerns the future of your Craftworld. The entire Seer Council must hear it."
Rellaol briefly considered resisting, but what chance did he have against somebody who brushed aside three veteran Howling Banshees without so much as breaking a sweat? Conceding defeat, the Farseer turned around and led the intruder out of the Dome of Crystal Seers.
Golden Throne, Sanctum Imperialis
017.M51
"After delivering the message," Farseer Elehdibn continued, "the messenger remained among us. She would visit the various Aspect Shrines, taking special interest in the Howling Banshee, Striking Scorpion, and Warp Spider Shrines. Several months later, she disappeared just as suddenly as she appeared."
Nunnally's eyes widened as the final pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. CC was unpredictable even at the best of times, and the three of them had long suspected some sort of hidden agenda. At the very least, she had been privy to details of the Black Knights' ultimate purpose that Lelouch had not seen fit to tell the rest of them about. The months when the green-haired Psyker disappeared entirely were otherwise so mundane that Nunnally couldn't remember them even if she tried. The day she returned, however, was an interesting one indeed: CC had nonchalantly stridden into the conference room and founded the Psychic Special Warfare Department.
"I sense this woman was somebody you know," the Farseer remarked, snapping Nunnally out of her flashback.
"Yes," Nunnally nodded, "She is an important leader in our civilization. Certain urgent matters kept her from attending this meeting."
Elehdibn failed to hide his curiosity as to what the "urgent matters" were, but ultimately decided not to pry. Nunnally was not about to volunteer the information, either.
The meeting continued for almost another two hours, though none of the topics covered proved as interesting as CC's visit to Craftworld Altansar. Surrounded by Custodians watching their every move, the remaining High Lords of Terra were bought into the Sanctum Imperialis to speak with the Eldar delegation. The Imperium's ruling council was understandably aghast at the thought of a xeno military force, no matter their intentions, coming so close to Holy Terra. Tempers towards the three Black Knights leaders flared and voices were raised. Fortunately, Captain-General Quintinus managed to head off any possible diplomatic incidents, clearing his throat unnecessarily loudly whenever a High Lord seemed close to violence.
Having spent the last several decades figuring out the best way to send her own people to their deaths and enduring the last few days with neither adequate sleep nor sustenance, only to see the most powerful men in the Imperium arguing with her and each other when their entire civilization lay on the line, Nunnally finally snapped. Her lengthy, swear-laden tirade—complete with involuntary psychic pyrotechnics—left Suzaku and Kallen stepping backwards with shock and the High Lords cowering in fear. Farseer Elehdibn made no effort to hide his amusement, both of the Autarchs shook with silent laughter, and Captain-General Quintinus was struck with a suspiciously-long coughing fit.
Once everyone involved regained their composure, the negotiations took on a significantly more subdued and civil tone. The High Lords agreed to allow the Eldar passage to Terra, and the Farseer surprisingly agreed to the rather restrictive conditions placed upon their movement. With a cordial bow and hints of amusement still on his face, Farseer Elehdibn closed the communications channel.
As the images of the Farseer and the two Autarchs faded away, Nunnally turned towards the Tech-Priests. Though they maintained a respectful distance, they had inched steadily closer to the projector over the course of the meeting. As the Companions ushered the High Lords of Terra out of the Sanctum Imperialis, Nunnally nodded to the lead Tech-Priest. With all the dignity they could muster, yet at the same time with all the glee of a child receiving a long-awaited gift, the Tech-Priests rushed over to the projector.
Operations Room, Space Station Ikaruga
Twenty Hours After the Arrival
Warmaster Izolham's attack, from his fleet's initial arrival to its disorganized retreat, had relentlessly battered Imperial lines for nearly fifteen straight hours. Once the celebrations died down, the somber task of tallying the losses began. The powerful computers of the Ikaruga's Operations Room worked steadily, collating thousands of reports from their ships out in the field. A dispatch from the Emperor's Vengeance, currently running a tally of its own, would occasionally arrive, boosting the already rapidly-climbing count by staggering amounts.
Though the battle itself was brief, a mere five hours of information gathering already placed losses in the millions, and reports were still flooding in. Dozens of Imperial warships, among them an ancient and irreplaceable Oberon-class battleship, were destroyed and hundreds more sustained heavy damage. Many of the millions lost were veterans, the few crews tough enough and experienced enough to survive the long and perilous voyage to Terra. Two Black Knights battle fleets were reduced to little over half strength. Rescue operations had recovered a large number of survivors, but replacing the ships would take years. As they catalogued the losses, orders came down from Governor Lamperouge herself to suppress news of the four Yggdrasil-class dreadnoughts scuttled by their crews for as long as possible. Even the late-coming Eldar suffered, their agile warships overwhelmed and destroyed by the sheer volume of weapons fire. More often than not, rescuers returned with one or two survivors and armfuls of soulstones.
Hundreds of smaller Black Knights and Imperial warships combed the debris field at the system's edge, vigilantly searching for survivors and salvageable hulks. Fearing corruption by the Ruinous Powers, heavier ships patrolled nearby, incinerating the wreckage of Chaos warships with lance and hadron fire. An entire production fleet and hundreds of Mechanicum repair ships were assigned to tend to the survivors, but demand for their services outstripped even their capabilities. Warships still combat-effective were repaired and rearmed, while heavily-damaged ones were stripped of usable parts and then scuttled.
Black Knights Utility Vessel Angel of Mercy
Edge of the Terra System
As thousands of personnel labored to restore the ships to fighting condition, thousands more scrambled to treat the wounded. Hundreds of Valkyrie-class utility-vessels-turned-mobile-field-hospitals made their rounds, often grouping together into aid stations. As allied warships began sending over the patients their own medical bays lacked either the room or the equipment, and very often both, to treat, the first wave of medical ships were quickly overwhelmed. Hospital ships from other battle fleets began jumping in, and many more Valkyries were hurriedly repurposed. The Black Knights warships that could spare the resources opened their medical bays to nearby ships and were quickly swamped.
"We've got a dropship off our port quarter from the Fist of Righteousness requesting docking permission. They've got seventy-two wounded aboard, fourteen of them critically!"
The captain tilted his heat to the right, the universal gesture to indicate he was talking to somebody—most likely one of the medical personnel in the utility vessel's belly—over the radio.
"Tell them permission denied," the captain responded several seconds later, "Our medical staff is still treating people from the last shuttle. They haven't even cleared out the receiving deck yet!"
As his subordinate relayed the message to the Imperial vessel, the Angel of Mercy's captain turned towards the second communications station.
"Open a line with the other ships," he ordered, "See if any of them can take on some more patients."
"Sir," the first officer reported, "Their pilot's saying that some of the men won't survive the trip to the next aid station."
"Dammit!" the captain punched the bulkhead in frustration, "Tell him we'd take them on if we had the room, but we simply don't!"
"Sir," the second communications technician chimed in, "The Rod of Asclepius says it can take on the critically-injured ones and is currently en route. The Pendragon is out of beds, but they can spare a field surgery unit."
The captain nodded to the first officer, who began hurriedly relaying the good news.
Another Valkyrie, the words Rod of Asclepius painted in enormous blocky letters on its nose, pulled up next to the Imperial transport moments later. A docking umbilical slowly extended and latched over the dropship's side hatch. Even before the passageway was fully inflated, medical Knightmares had already left the Rod of Asclepius and crossed to the other side, prepared to enter the other vessel as soon as the pressure equalized. The promised field surgery unit had simply blown themselves out of an airlock rather than take a shuttle. A dozen red-and-white Knightmares zipped past the Angel of Mercy's nose, four of them carrying a portable airlock between them and the others carrying crates of surgical supplies.
Operations Room, Space Station Ikaruga
Five Hours Later
Despite all the attention paid to the battle and its aftermath, one corner of the Operations Room remained focused on the big picture. The threat of Abaddon's main fleet still hung over all their heads, and a small scout force had quietly jumped away in the confusion after the battle.
"Message from the picket fleet: object confirmed approaching from below the system plane. ETA is seventeen days at current velocity. No positive identification yet, but mass signature is roughly the magnitude of a small planet's."
The main tactical map zoomed out as the picket ships fed new data to the Ikaruga. An enormous red blob representing Abaddon's fleet dominated the display, slowly but surely inching towards Terra. A currently-unidentified Warp phenomenon, most likely summoned by Abaddon's followers, defeated all attempts to scan the fleet, so its progress was tracked by its Warp shadow. A much smaller, though still sizable, grey blip joined the blob on the tactical map.
"Update from picket fleet: the geometry of the Chaos fleet's Warp shadow has changed. Initial readings indicate a large number of ships have separated from the main fleet. At current heading and speed, they will intercept the unidentified object within the next twelve hours."
"Update the clock. Get me a line with the Quadrumvirate."
Chaos Battleship Pride of the Emperor
?
"My lord, it is ready."
A shadow stirred from within the smoke at the room's center, its serpentine body coiled around the command throne. Hundreds of burning candles encircled it, each a different variety of incense, and each potent enough to strip any mortal man of his reason a thousand times over. Fulgrim reared up to his full height, his head and upper body rising above the miasma. The many thralls around him, each a powerful Champion of Slaanesh, nervously backed away from the Daemon Prince.
"Do it," he rumbled.
A metal pod, no more than a dozen meters in diameter and welded shut, was pushed out of the Pride of the Emperor's airlock and into the Warp currents. A dozen Psykers, kidnapped from former Imperial worlds the Emperor's Children had conquered and plundered, were sealed inside. The Daemon Primarch's most trusted subordinates had spent years breaking them, alternately subjecting them to sanity-melting amounts of pleasure and pain until they could no longer tell the difference. They were driven to the very limits of insanity, only for Fulgrim's sorcerers to piece their minds back together to being the process anew. A potent cocktail of chemicals, rumored to have been gifts from the Prince of Pleasure's palace, pumped inside drove them insane with a hundred conflicting sensations.
Though ravenous Warp predators surrounded the Pride of the Emperor, none dared approach the massive battleship. The wrath of a Daemon Prince was terrible indeed, and none wished to test the infinite depravities of Fulgrim's imagination. To the Psykers of the metal pod, they showed no such consideration. As the unfortunate souls within clawed at the walls and one another in a desperate bid to escape, daemons and Warp-beasts forced their way inside. Not even the Warp's own unnatural spawn could withstand the mind-melting miasma within, and they soon joined unspeakable orgies within.
As the psychic energies within resonated and built up, the flimsy casing could no longer contain them and burst. The Pride of the Emperor and the numerous ships following it rode the Warp shockwave, the former dropping more such pods along its course.
Eldar Battleship Khaine's Wrath
Edge of the Terra System
Farseer Elehdibn screamed in pain as an unbearable pressure built up in his skull. Bleeding from every orifice, he collapsed to his knees, clutching his staff for support.
"Farseer!"
Autarch Areciberd immediately left her seat and rushed over to the Farseer's side. She would immediately regret that decision as a wave of blinding pain crashed into her. Several bridge officers rushed forward to assist her, only to collapse in agony.
"Something's happening," Elehdibn choked out between the waves of pain, "Altansar's in trouble…get me a line to the Black Knights!"
One of the bridge officers, fighting his way through the haze, crawled towards the communications console and attempted to punch in the correct frequency. His hand slipped on the first attempt, and pained convulsions ruined the second. Merciful unconsciousness claimed him in the middle of the third attempt, and he slid to the floor.
The Farseer struggled to his feet and staggered over to the control panel.
Imperial Light Cruiser Manus Iuris Beta
?
When the Astronomican went out, untold hundreds of ships and their crews were thrown hopelessly off-course or devoured by ravenous Warp-beasts. A few escaped the initial destruction, having been in the Materium when the Emperor left the Golden Throne, but their fates proved little better. Stranded far from Terra and without any safe means of travel, they could only wait to die.
The Manus Iuris Beta had been one of the lucky ones. The Endeavor-class light cruiser and the other four ships of its squadron were travelling with a ragtag fleet of twelve vessels when a sudden Warp current knocked them slightly off-course. Though the deviation was minor, the Navigators insisted that the fleet drop out of the Warp to reacquire its bearings. Unfortunately for the convoy, their re-entry into the Warp coincided with the Astronomican's extinguishing. As the rear guard, the Manus Iuris Beta could only watch helplessly as the other eleven ships were torn apart by violent Warp currents.
Though still many dozens of light-years from Terra, the convoy had come close enough that the Manus Iuris Beta could travel the remaining distance in short, calculated hops. Though initially reluctant to do so, the Navigator eventually agreed to steer the ship towards Terra from memory with a healthy dose of dead reckoning.
"Arriving in sixty seconds," the helm officer calmly announced.
"I have plotted the next jump. If the currents do not shift, it shall take us to the edge of Terra."
The captain acknowledged the information with a nod and picked up his vox headset.
"All stations, brace for transition into the Materium."
"Arrival in thirty seconds."
The Manus Iuris Beta's captain leaned back in his command throne. For the first time since the Manus Iuris squadron destroyed its own headquarters rather than allow it to fall into Chaos hands, he allowed himself a moment's relaxation. In just a few hours, they would reach the relative safety of Terra. He didn't expect any rest upon arrival, but seeing another Imperial ship and possibly having the opportunity to take on supplies would be an Emperor-send. A loud bang violently bought him back to reality.
"Report!" he sharply demanded.
His Navigator's sudden absence of a head and the brain matter currently coating both the dead man's console and his shell-shocked neighbor told the captain all he needed to know. Before he could order a clean-up crew to the bridge, he was thrown from his command throne.
"What was that?"
"It's a sudden Warp current!" the helm officer answered while clinging to his console for dear life, "The ship's getting ripped apart!"
"Drop us out of the Warp!" the captain shouted, "I don't care if we wind up in the middle of a star!"
The sudden transition back into the Materium tossed everyone out of their seats. The helm officer lost his grip and flew over the console, dashing his head on a nearby wall. The communications officer slammed into a bulkhead and was currently groaning in pain while clutching his left arm. Another bridge officer, a piece of shrapnel having severed his jugular artery, gurgled and clutched his throat for several seconds before expiring.
The captain's demands for a medical team and a damage report were cut short. Craftworld Altansar's rapidly-approaching surface was the last sight he ever saw.
Golden Throne, Sanctum Imperialis
Twenty Minutes Later
"The Psychic Special Warfare people are freaking out, ma'am. Doctors have had to restrain and sedate a good number of them. A few injuries were reported, mostly people passing out and hitting equipment or bulkheads, but nothing too severe as of yet. Besides that, it's mostly severe headaches, nausea, and nosebleeds all throughout the Fleet."
"Keep me posted," Nunnally ordered before closing the line.
The Psychic Special Warfare operatives with them had it worst of all, all of them having fallen unconscious when the Warp shockwave reached them. Kallen knelt next to them, assessing their injuries at a remarkable rate considering her own mental condition. The militiamen were still standing, albeit shakily, and Nunnally could tell that a few of them were fighting to stay conscious. Suzaku advised them to sit down before collapsing onto the floor himself.
"How are they?" Suzaku turned his head towards Kallen.
"They'll survive," Kallen groaned, "Though they'll probably spend the first few hours after waking up wishing they hadn't."
The plates of Kallen's helmet separated and folded back, allowing the redhead to massage her temples and the bridge of her nose. As a Psyker of her magnitude, she had been harder-hit by the shockwave than any of the unconscious operatives, but her defenses were also proportionately stronger. Still, the last time her head hurt so much was when an entire Raider squad, on leave after having survived a particularly difficult mission, wagered that she couldn't outdrink them all. Needless to say, Kallen had an unusually-large amount of pocket change that month.
"If we've been affected this badly," Nunnally began while massaging her temples, "I can only imagine what the Eldar got."
As if sensing her concern, Nunnally's headset beeped. The sound did little to alleviate her headache, but the message was mercifully audio-only. With a pained groan, the governor tapped her communicator and opened the channel. From the corner of her eye, she could see Suzaku tilting his head to the right and Kallen summoning her helmet.
"Governor Lamperouge speaking."
"Ma'am, we're received an update from the picket fleets: the object they've been tracking has disappeared. A massive Warp storm had flared up around its last confirmed location. Scanners are unable to penetrate the storm, and it's currently too dangerous to move any closer."
It didn't take Nunnally long to put two and two together.
"Additionally," the voice continued, "We've received a message from Farseer Elehdibn. Should I patch him through?"
"Do it," Nunnally ordered.
Briefing Room, Black Knights Destroyer Caerleon
Two Hours Later
Like its sister ship Avalon, the Caerleon was designed from keel-up to deliver an Orbital Planetary Assault Wing to the battlefront. While less-fortunate OPAWs had to make do with whatever reasonably large and open space they could find, the 10th OPAW had a state-of-the-art briefing room at its disposal. A holographic tactical map covered the entire rear wall, and the room could seat all one hundred twenty members of the 10th OPAW at once. A combination of excitement and nervousness hung in the air, and the room buzzed with a dozen quiet conversations.
"Officer on deck!"
All conversation immediately ceased as one hundred nineteen pairs of feet crashed against the floor. A Cherub-type Knightmare with Captain's insignia painted on its shoulders took the podium at the front of the room. Every eye in the room, however, was focused on the Guren-Seraph standing several paces behind and to his right. The Captain briskly returned the OPAW's salute.
"Take your seats."
The scraping sounds lasted for all of several seconds.
"Men," the Captain began, "Our orders come from the very top. They were signed by General Kozuki herself barely an hour ago. Not only will the General be leading this assault in person, she will brief you on the details of your mission."
"Thank you, Captain Schuelke," Kallen stepped up to the podium.
The holographic display behind the Guren immediately lit up. A recording of the Ikaruga's main tactical map dominated the display.
"As you already know, we received help from Eldar military forces during the battle several hours ago. We have since identified them as forces from Craftworld Altansar."
A picture of an Eldar rune, resembling two triangles with a short rod connecting them, appeared. Pictures of Eldar Guardians dressed in crimson and black armor scrolled by at high speed.
"Until 999.M41 by the Imperial calendar, this Craftworld was thought lost, trapped in the Eye of Terror. During Abaddon's Thirteen Black Crusade, the Craftworld managed to free itself and began drifting towards Terra. Though we have yet to discover how they avoided Imperial attack thus far, their journey nears its end."
Kallen used her non-clawed hand to point towards the pulsing grey blip on the map.
"For several hours since the battle, we have been tracking a large, unidentified object that we now know to be Craftworld Altansar. As of the most recent sighting, it was approximately seventeen days away from the outskirts of Terra."
The entire 10th OPAW had a feeling they knew what was coming next.
"Approximately two hours ago, our picket ships detected a sizable force detaching from Abaddon's main fleet. We believed they intended to intercept the Craftworld, and that they would need roughly twelve hours to make the intercept. Shortly afterwards, the Terra system was hit by a massive psychic shockwave. Though we are still working on finding out the source of the shockwaves, it is obvious they were artificial in nature and likely the result of a powerful Chaos ritual. The Chaos fleet's journey was significantly shortened, and a massive Warp storm has engulfed both it and Craftworld Altansar."
When Kallen paused to catch her breath, nobody dared breathe.
"If our estimates are correct, the Chaos assault on Craftworld Altansar began almost two hours ago."
A/N: And thus begins our next plot arc! Additionally, the muses conspire to make a liar of me yet again. There is one more info-dump omake after this one.
Omake: Encyclopedia of the Black Knights, Volume Nine: Technology
What the Black Knights lack in quantity, they make up in quality. Their unlimited access to highly-advanced technology, with even the greenest recruit issued a brand-new Knightmare and a high-quality hadron weapon, gives them a significant edge over their enemies. As the Warp storms closed around Terra and the Age of Strife approached, the Ikaruga fled beyond the boundaries of known space with humanity's last STC. Since then, the Fleet's highly-capable scientists and engineers have maintained a brisk pace of innovation.
Electronics: Over the millennia, methods of data gathering have stayed surprisingly static: radio remains one of the best methods of communication, and radar one of the best detection apparatuses. However, data processing has evolved greatly, and development of increasingly-powerful computers continues. Capable of processing information at rates unimaginable with even the Imperium's most advanced solid-state processors, quantum processors were first rediscovered during the first decades of the Age of Technology and continue to form the backbone of the Fleet's computing abilities. To ensure information reaches people who can use it, the Fleet employs a robust communications network. Developed from reverse-engineered Necron technology, faster-than-light communications repeaters function by sending data packets through corridors of compressed space-time. As a result, information can reliably cross the galaxy in a matter of hours. To deny the enemy their information flow, the Black Knights employ sophisticated electronic warfare equipment based off technology developed even before the Age of Terra. The Fleet's warships can broadcast jamming signals that completely blank out conventional sensors and communications, giving friendly ships and their specially-hardened electronics suites a decisive edge over their opponents. Should they find their own sensors jammed, they can fall back to passive detection methods: scanning for vapor and plasma trails, heat, motion, energy signatures, even the disturbances the enemy's mass imparts upon the fabric of space-time. Communication proves slightly more difficult, with the only reliable fallback being tight-beam laser broadcasts.
FLEIJA Warheads: One of the deadliest weapons in the Black Knights' arsenal, the first modern FLEIJA warhead was detonated at the height of the Age of Technology. Though yields have grown progressively larger, the basic operating principles remain the same. In the first few fractions of a second following detonate, a micro-singularity forms. Though the effect is negligible outside of a certain radius, anything within the radius is pulled in. Some targets are destroyed by the gravitational forces crushing them or smashing them together, and the rest fall victim to the burst of antimatter released afterwards. FLEIJA warheads come in a wide variety of sizes, ranging from the miniaturized warheads issued to OPAW teams to deal with tanks and heavy armor to ship-fired missiles capable of devastating entire fleets. Warheads meant to deal with particularly stubborn targets, such as the anti-ship missiles mounted on Excalibur-class attack craft, are equipped with a single-use Needle Blazer. The device fires a microsecond before impact, boring a hole in the target's armor and ideally allowing the warhead to pass through and detonate within.
Gravitric Drives: First developed during the twenty-fifth millennium, gravitric drives provide propulsion through careful manipulation of superstrings. Ships equipped with such drives can perform maneuvers that would rip any conventionally-propelled ship apart, serving the unintentional secondary purpose of preserving the Fleet's secrecy, as it adds yet another layer of improbability to witnesses' tales. The secrets of manufacturing gravitric drives, especially the knots of distorted space-time that lie at their centers, are of great interest to the Necron Crypteks. In the early forty-ninth millennium, a minor conclave was on the verge of a breakthrough when the Black Knights caught wind of their efforts. An OPAW was immediately dispatched to raze the laboratory, massacring all the Crypteks within and seizing their research data. The raid irrevocably shattered the conclave's power and the information retrieved greatly accelerated development of the gravitric impeller, ushering in the eleventh generation of Knightmares.
Hadron Manipulation: Rediscovered during the Age of Technology, hadron weapons utilize a miniature particle accelerator to generate and fire bursts of antiprotons at a target. Since they annihilate matter at the subatomic level, hadron weapons are difficult to defend against. Early hadron weapons were uncontrollable, relegating them to use as weapons of mass destruction, and a method to stabilize and direct the beams would not be developed until well into the twenty-fifth millennium. The first hadron fields were developed approximately three centuries later. Such devices surround an object in a cloud of fast-moving antiprotons that quickly annihilates anything caught within atom-by-atom. Normally a faint transparent red, hadron fields glow deep crimson when hit. Though handheld hadron weaponry was first fielded by seventh-generation Knightmares, many of the lessons learned from developing the hadron field went into the invention of the energy wings, the Black Knights' distinctive meson-field propulsion and weapons system first introduced with the sixth generation. By the advent of eleventh-generation Knightmares, the Black Knights can freely shape hadron fields into any desired configuration.
Medicine: To outsiders, a Fleet hospital would resemble a place of biomancy. Curing some of the galaxy's worst diseases and genetically-tailoring medicines for specific patients are both common occurrences, discussed with all the fanfare of yesterday's weather. Though conventional medical procedures are utilized in particularly complex cases, most injuries and diseases are treated with specialized medical nanites. With just a few tissue samples, doctors can quickly and easily have replacement limbs and organs vat-grown. In the field, medical foam has saved countless lives. Resembling airy cream, it is a potent mixture of antiseptics, painkillers, coagulants, and first-aid nanites applied directly to a wound. Generally administered via automated dispenser built directly into the Knightmare, though handheld models do exist, the foam quickly expands and hardens to seal the wound. It allows soldiers to essentially ignore minor wounds and stabilizes severely-injured patients for medevac.
Nanites: First developed during the Age of Technology, nanite technology has remained fairly static since. From carrying out lifesaving medical procedures to quality-control on an assembly line, there are few facets of Fleet life untouched by nanites. Though no replacement for dedicated damage-control teams and drydock facilities, nanites can perform emergency repairs on Black Knights warships in the heat of battle. For millennia, maintenance crews and rear-line repair stations have used nanites to quickly put Knightmares back into the fight. As much protection as rutalium carbide provides, even bounced shots leave microscopic cracks that ultimately weaken the armor. Nanites can easily detect and repair these nigh-invisible fractures, dramatically extending the operational life of a Knightmare. However, nanites were thought too unpredictable for Knightmares on the front lines, where a few fractions of a second often decided between life and death. A, most likely apocryphal, story claims that a Knightmare was once reported to have continued fighting despite taking more than enough hits to reduce it to scrap. Later investigation revealed that a batch of maintenance nanites had somehow avoided deactivation and obliviously continued their duties as Tyranid bio-plasma splattered around them. Whatever the truth was, Knightmares from the eighth generation onward featured nanite-based self-repair systems. Around the same time, it became popular to infuse paint with nanites, allowing the rapid change of camouflage schemes on the fly.
Power Supply: As the Second Dark Age bought on by the exhaustion of Terra's Sakuradite supply dragged on, the fossil fuels that greatly aided humanity in slowly clawing its way back up began running out. The Black Knights' scientists responded by developing a new energy filler system, utilizing ceramics instead of Sakuradite. The resulting battery could absorb titanic amounts of heat and gradually release it over the course of hours or even days. Though impractical for large-scale power generation, miniaturized steam turbines utilizing ceramic batteries as a heat source proved ideal for vehicle engines and personal generators. Eventually, fossil fuels gave way to atomic power, which in turn was obsoleted by plasma reactors. Ceramic energy fillers responded to the changing times by replacing steam turbines with apparatuses to convert heat directly into electricity. In the final decades of the Age of Technology, the Black Knights developed the first cold fusion reactor, capable of generating as much power as a plasma reactor without the enormous start-up jolt its predecessor needed. In addition, they pioneered the first major paradigm shift in the design of the humble electrochemical cell in centuries. By adding semiconductor micro-towers, the Fleet's scientists increased battery capacity and life a hundredfold. However, the Machine Wars broke out before either technology's scheduled debuts, and the secrets of both were lost as the Black Knights fled Terra. Despite these new technologies, it took the advent of cold fusion micro-reactors during the fourth generation of Knightmare development to finally obsolete ceramic energy fillers. Arguably the Black Knights' greatest gift to humanity, ceramic energy filler technology is still used by the Imperium in the fifty-first millennium.
Production: If a Mechanicum Tech-Priest were to tour a Black Knights factory or farm, he would be impressed by the sheer quantity and efficiency of production. At the same time, the hypothetical Tech-Priest would be horrified by the reliance on machines. Manpower is the Fleet's most precious resource, and it can afford to waste none of it. Production, whether industrial or agricultural, is automated wherever possible. Hydroponics bays are watched over by enormous machines that ceaselessly monitor and adjust the water and nutrient levels, with only a few human staff on hand to observe, shutting the machines down for maintenance and repairs when required. On many occasions, plant-borne diseases were quickly detected and the infected crops quarantined and destroyed by quick-response nanite swarms, with the staff none the wiser until they reviewed the day's activity logs. Entire industrial assembly lines are staffed solely by specialized machines, with only a small handful of human supervisors. A sharp observer may notice the distinct lack of seam lines on Black Knights Knightmares and warships. While the smaller components were likely solid-cast in the first place, larger components were welded together on an atomic level via nanites. Certain products even undergo quality-control inspection by nanites. However, even in the fifty-first millennium, there remain certain processes—chief among them the creation of psycho-crystalline matrices—that remain too exacting and delicate for machines to handle. As a result, production facilities still retain large numbers of human workers.
Psycho-Crystalline Matrix: Developed around the twenty-fifth millennium following the Black Knights' genetic experiments, the psycho-crystalline matrix is one of the Fleet's cornerstone technologies. In the past, some have compared it to Eldar wraithbone, but while wraithbone is a product of the Warp, psycho-crystalline matrices are the product of science. Moderately strong and a poor conductor of heat and electricity, the substance composing the matrices resembles cream-colored plastic when unpainted. Some of the matrices produced are used for the psychic focusing coils found in the Black Knights' force weapons. The rest undergoes additional treatment for use in Knightmare frames. Though extremely rigid at first glance, a matrix so treated becomes extremely pliable when exposed to psychic energies. The matrix reshapes itself several times a second to match its user's movements, becoming increasingly attuned to the user's psychic signature with continued use. One can identify new recruits from their Knightmares' jerky movements, while veterans move virtually unhindered. Once a matrix is "broken in," it becomes increasingly difficult, and eventually impossible, for another to use it.
Rutalium Carbide: Despite its name, rutalium carbide is actually a highly-complex composite composed of various carbides, metals, and ceramics. Extremely strong and durable through surprisingly heavy, the material possesses a number of other interesting properties that make it well-suited for armor. Besides being poor conductors of heat and electricity, objects made from rutalium carbide absorb a large enough proportion of electromagnetic waves to throw off casual auspex scans. Accordingly, the secrets of its manufacture remain one of their most jealously-guarded secrets. Though finished parts may be sent to specialized Valkyries for final assembly, the material is produced and shaped exclusively aboard Arcadia-class production ships. Even if somebody were to acquire the material's exact composition, the information would do them little good: several stages of manufacture are only possible in zero-gravity conditions, and many more involve exacting applications of extreme heat and pressure.
Skimmer Drives: In the organization's earliest days, the leaders of the Black Knights forbade research into Warp Drives. The decision was vindicated in the chaos surrounding the Age of Strife and, later, Abaddon's invasion of the galaxy. The violent Warp currents made even short-distance hops by Warp Drive extremely dangerous, but ships equipped with skimmer drives could jump without fear. Skirting the boundary between the Materium and the Warp, a ship so equipped avoids all but the very strongest Warp currents. While not quite as fast as a Warp Drive for the same reasons, skimmer drives execute much safer and more predictable jumps, capable of delivering entire fleets in close formation with little trouble. Following the Battle of Deneb during the Third Necrotic War, improvements were made to the technology thanks to reverse-engineering of a salvaged Necron inertialess drive. Many of the Fleet's intelligence officials have remarked over the years that the Tau's faster-than-light drive resembles the skimmer drive far too much to be mere coincidence, and several believe that the technology may have been reverse-engineered from some forgotten expedition.
A/N: Yep. Some of the Fleet's major technologies explored. Partly from STC patterns, partly from their own research, and partly stolen from the Necrons. Our next and final volume of the Encyclopedia of the Black Knights will cover their foreign relations. What's that? You think they get along with everyone else? Silly readers, this is the grim darkness of the far future, where there is only war! The Black Knights get into just as many fights as anyone else. They just happen to win a lot more of them.