Enke returned to his little workshop and began tinkering, mediating disputes between a pile of machine spirits.
Evan racked his brains, but still could not figure out how to pick a fight with the Drukhari. These creatures had hunted across the Galaxy for so many years; they certainly knew what they were doing.
Of course, Evan knew he could force them to come after him. He only had to reveal the emblem on his pauldron and let a few enemies escape, and a whole swarm of Drukhari would come looking for this Aeldari relic a few days later.
Evan kept scanning the map of the Three Hundred Worlds, searching for a place where every invading Drukhari could be buried—a death trap with no escape. Yet none of the options suited his needs.
Countless exploration and mining vessels received an additional assignment. Under the pretext of searching for new habitable worlds, the warriors did their best to locate hidden Webway entrances across a vast region.
(The Three Hundred Worlds consisted of three hundred habitable colonial systems. There were also countless barren, uninhabited worlds.)
A year passed without much happening nearby. That was normal for this desperately impoverished region. Every planet began building large shelters. Enke produced weapon prototypes and tested them several times.
Two years passed. Enke revised the new weapons, and a hundred Primaris warriors began patrolling our territory, wearing every suit of Power Armour Evan had in stock. The price was that a batch of recruits we had created ourselves really did have to make do with scout armour.
Three years passed. Enke put his weapons into mass production-which meant intensive hand assembly. Nothing much happened nearby. This depopulated region was not worth attacking for the Genestealers or corrupting for Chaos. As before, as long as the neighboring Necron