Evan had one word: stall.
Keeping this fleet pinned here was a strategic advantage. After all, the Light of the People was over there.
The Adeptus Mechanicus kept calling over the comms, while our signals kept getting scrambled.
We pretended not to hear them while demanding evidence that Khorne had attacked them.
Do you think I'm an idiot? It happened just because you said so? You make up some nonsense, and I'm supposed to obediently walk into the traps on your home turf? Do you think my cerebrum has shriveled and my cerebellum has swollen?
If this had been a multiple-choice question, Evan would have decisively chosen the latter. Let the Adeptus Mechanicus accuse us of colluding with Chaos. I'll send out a member of the Adeptus Custodes, and you can see whether the Inquisitor believes you or me.
But this was not a multiple-choice question.
For every ten transmissions from the Adeptus Mechanicus, we barely answered one, usually with inconsequential demands for evidence. Communications jamming was running at full capacity across the battlefield, electronic warfare had escalated across the board, and psychic signals were blocked. The whole point was to refuse to budge.
Beat this fleet into submission.
After calculating all the data at astonishing speed, the Archmagos of the Adeptus Mechanicus launched a desperate operation, sacrificing a part to save the whole.
Every warship trapped on the front line or boarded by enemy troops was abandoned. Every vessel capable of withdrawing turned back to reinforce the Forge World.
He still knew the difference between wealth and home.
My damned laboratory and everything I own are back home!
Even if they conquered the Aeldari, how much would a single Archmagos like him get? If his home was lost, most of his assets would be gone with it.
There was