If it had not been for the Trove Cogitator's constant psychic warnings about the off-the-charts psychic strength of the Aeldari before him, Hill would have blown his head apart with his boltgun.
After all, this was far too bizarre. The two sides were still at war, and Hill had just severed the head of an Aeldari Aspect Warrior with his electromagnetic longsword.
The blood on the blade had not even finished dripping when an Aeldari arrived to negotiate. It sounded more like some sort of Aeldari scheme.
Were they pretending to surrender? Or trying to stall for time through negotiations? Both were possible.
The Aeldari often did things humans found incomprehensible. Their strange logic and ways of thinking were difficult for humanity to understand. They often took preemptive action because of certain prophecies, strangling crises in the cradle.
"Aeldari, do you think we would believe your clumsy lies?"
"I am a son of Guilliman. Reason and calm are my instincts. Do not think you can play your damned prophecies before me."
A cold electronic voice came through the helmet's vox-grille. The sensors mounted on the Space Marine transmitted the scene before him back to the rear forward base.
After being processed by the Cogitator, the scenes here became a new projection before Lox.
He folded his arms and considered how much of it was true.
"This Aeldari seems different from those who call themselves the Aeldari of the Alaitoc Craftworld. There are extremely subtle differences in their intricate patterns."
Lox knew that the Aeldari possessed an immensely ancient and complex culture. Every rune and marking on them carried its own meaning, though most humans had no interest in such things.
"Let him continue," Lox commanded remotely.
"Have the anti-psyker squad ready. Let our Untouchables deal with him."
"I mean no